Hopeless Wanderer
by Willful Redhead
Summary: His feet loved to wander far but he his heart was deeply rooted. As he is forced to travel far from home, he is filled with worry over his beloved ones at home.
1. Chapter 1

_I heard your voice._

_I came out of the woods by choice._

_So hold me fast, hold me fast_

_because I'm a hopeless wanderer_

_And I will learn,_

_Yes, I will learn_

_to love the skies I'm under_

_(Mumford and Sons, Hopeless Wanderer)_

**ONE**

As Daniel Boone reached the rise of the hill, he could see down into the small valley where he'd built their cabin. The lights of home always filled him with a sense of peaceful contentment. The smoke curled from the chimney into the darkness of the night sky, leaving a gray smudge against the velvety blue darkness. From the eave of the porch he could see the yellow flickering of a lamp. Rebecca kept it burning just for him, and seeing it always filled him with a sense of wonder; _She's still waiting for me!_ He was amazed every time. The first time he'd left, he caught her standing on tiptoe to hang a lamp from the eaves. He'd laughed when she'd explained it to him.

"_You thinkin' I might just wander into someone else's cabin?" He'd asked._

"_I wouldn't put it past you." She grinned at him._

"_Only one girl on this whole earth who can keep my feet rooted." He wrapped a long arm around her, pulling her close._

"_You aren't rooted!" She said dismissively. "You are hopeless wanderer, Daniel Boone. I kept that lamp there to remind you we are waiting."_

"_I'll always come home to you, darlin'." He kissed her cheek._

He paused at the rise of the hill watching the flickering light of the lamp. He was glad to be back at home. He prayed that _this_ homecoming would be nothing like his last. He shuddered at the memory of Rebecca bruised and frightened, pretending that everything was fine.

Striding forward on his long legs, he vaulted the steps and swung open the door to see her as she looked sharply up from where she sat at the table reading. Her face transformed from surprise to joy as she jumped up and into his arms.

"Daniel!"

Even as she fluttered and fussed, overjoyed to have him home again, he leaned in kissing her cheek, her neck, her shoulders, until at last his lips met hers. He felt his whole body melt; every stress, every worry fade as his heart returned to it's true home; her.

"You look beautiful!" He said to her at last. "I guess I can confess it to you now, darlin', but I missed you a mite." He smiled down into her blue eyes which were bright with happy tears.

"I missed you more than a mite!" She said kissing him again. "Are you hungry? Are you well?"

"Tired." He confessed. "And lonesome for the sound of your voice." He moved to settle into a chair beside the hearth. He stretched his arms out to her, and she settled contentedly onto his lap. "Tell me about the children."

"They are well." She said. "Although, Israel gave us a bit of a scare. He fell into the river, and was afraid I'd be angry his clothes were wet, so he hid out all day - soaking wet. He caught a cold but is better now. He had such a ragged cough for a day or two!"

"That boy is drawn to trouble like a coyote to a baby fawn!" Daniel said laughing.

"Don't I know it!" She remarked.

"And this one?" He asked rubbing a hand over her swollen belly. Is she behaving?"

"_He_ is just fine." She smiled at him. "I've never felt so good."

"You look beautiful, but then you always do." He said his hand unpinning her long red hair.

"Daniel." She whispered, blushing.

"Ah! Still blushing like a new bride." He kissed her cheek. "You will always be my new bride."

She smiled at him, her bright blue eyes shining, and leaning forward, she kissed him. He had intended to tell her right away that he would only be home for a few weeks. He thought it would be better if they faced it right off; that he faced her right away, but he found it hard to focus on anything with her this close. She smelled wonderfully sweet and her skin was so soft and silky. He relaxed fully in her arms, feeling all his troubles, all coherent thought slip away. There was nothing in the world but her.

***DB***

He hated leaving when her time was close. He feared the baby would come early and he would miss it. But it was leave or watch the world around them dissolve into war. He kept ignoring it and avoiding any talk of leaving. He didn't want to abandon her. He put it off as long as possible until at last it was Rebecca who urged him to go.

"You should leave tomorrow." She said to him as he bent to put another log on the fire. Jemima and Israel were snuggly asleep.

"What do you mean?" He asked her, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Daniel. I am fine. I've _never_ felt so good. And there's two months still. Go and when you get back you can see your son born."

"Daughter." He said and sighing crossed to where she stood straightening the pantry. "Rebecca, how can you expect me to just leave you?"

"You are asking that?" She grinned at him, and reaching out with gentle fingers, ran her hand over his rugged cheek.

"I just worry about you all alone." He sighed, and stepped closer to her. "You'll have to move to the fort."

"Why on earth would I do that?" She turned back to her work. He decided it would be best to take in a deep calming breath before responding. He _loved_ Rebecca; loved her deeply, but she was headstrong - as headstrong as he was!

"You know, you are a pretty difficult woman sometimes." He stepped behind her, and put strong hands on her hips, leaning in and kissing her behind her left ear.

"Sometimes?" She turned in his arms facing him with a grin.

"Becky, there's no way I'm leaving you all alone in this cabin. I will only considering going if you and the children move inside the fort." He moved away from her and leaned his tall frame against the wall.

"And leave this cabin undefended? Who'll look after my garden? Who'll make sure our crops are fine?" She stood with one hand on her hip.

"_You_ aren't." He said testily. "I'll send Toliver out to look after things."

"Dan . . .I'm not a helpless child . . ." She looked up into his face with wide blue eyes.

"Stop that." He said shaking his head at her. "I know what you are doing, Rebecca Anne!" He stepped closer and wrapped a long arm around her shoulder. "Darlin' I know you aren't a child. If there's anyone on this whole frontier who can manage, it is Rebecca Anne Boone, but sometimes you gotta let folks look after you - for their sake." He leaned in kissing her cheek. "If anything happened and you were here alone, I'd never . . ." He cleared his throat and continued huskily. "Please, ah grah, for my sake?"

"Alright." She relented. "But only if you promise to go and be focused on the task at hand. Don't be foolhardy and rush just to get back to me. You'll see this little one whether it is the first day or the fifth." She turned to face him resting her head against his strong shoulder.

He slid his hand over her stomach, feeling the baby inside move and kick as he did. It never ceased to fill him with wonder. He closed his eyes briefly; simultaneously content and terrified. He whispered a silent prayer deep within his heart. _Let this child be strong for her - don't allow her heart to be broken again. _He felt so protective of her; he could not bear watching her wade through grief again.

The first baby had died when James, their first born, was just three. It had come much too early, and she'd been numb and broken for months after. He had never felt so helpless; so useless. Then they'd had Elizabeth. She had lived three days. She had also been born early, and was so small that he could hold her in the palm of his hand. He could still remember staring down into Elizabeth's dark eyes which held his with great intensity - as if she'd known she'd only have these few days with her father.

Jemima's birth had brought them such joy. Though, she'd been small and weak, and he'd spent her first days trying to harden his heart against her - fearful that she would be gone like the others, there was something about her - a surprising strength. She had looked up into his face with bright blue, trusting eyes, and he'd felt his heart melt and recognized something hiding in that tiny girl that reminded him of Rebecca's stubbornness and impressive well of strength. Every day she'd grown stronger and stronger. She was just three when James was brutally killed, shattering Rebecca's heart completely.

He couldn't think of that time without feeling the impact of his grief; his betrayal. His beautiful son horribly killed and by a man he'd believed to be a friend. He couldn't look at Rebecca and avoid remembering the anguish in her eyes. They'd spent a year with friends, unable to care for themselves or 'Mima. He had been so consumed with rage and guilt, and Rebecca so devastated that she couldn't even rise out of bed. They'd spent a year struggling to find their way back together. His errors had cost her so much and he carried the guilt deep in his heart. He wondered every day at her forgiveness and loving kindness toward him. He couldn't understand it.

They'd lost two babies in quick succession in the years following, and after the second one, he'd vowed to prevent her from experiencing any more pain. He could bear no more, and if he had deny himself her touch; her loving kindness - he would for her sake. He determined in his heart to keep himself away from her to protect to her; to protect her heart.

He had lasted thirteen days.

He had come in from where he had been laboring in the fields. He found her working in the garden, a smudge of dirt across her cheek, as she looked up into his face with shining eyes. Her smile was bright and her laughter like music. She'd thrown some weeds at him, teasing and then when he'd turned toward her, she'd run, laughing all the way. He had chased her into a beautiful bright green meadow, catching up to her easily in quick long strides. He had grabbed hold of her, tumbling to the ground so that she had landed in his arms.

She smiled down at him, her laughter fading as she leaned up on her arms laying across his chest.

"You never kiss me any more." She'd said quietly, her eyes suddenly serious.

"I . . . 'Becca . . . I." He had found himself incapable of words.

"I'm not as young as I once was." She had said with a sigh. "Maybe you've grown tired of me."

"Never!" He had been surprised by the strength of his reply. It had been so long since he'd been this close to her. He'd been keeping himself away - finding that even a touch of her hand was dangerous.

"There's someone else then?" The anxious sound in her voice, shattered him; shattered his resolve. He hadn't thought about what his refusal to touch her would have communicated to her. He burned with shame, understanding that his attempt to protect her had hurt her.

"Ta mo chroi istigh ionat." His voice was thick with emotion. He reached out tucking a wild strand of hair behind her ear, and brushed his fingers along the soft curve of her chin.

"It's alright, Dan." She sighed. "You don't have to . . ." But she'd never finished the sentence as he silenced her with his kisses.

And then Israel had been born just nine months later. He was small and sickly, but was joyous - always a bright smile. Nothing seemed to stop the boy from smiling. Sick as he was; small as he was - he would smile and coo, and cling so tightly to his father's finger that Daniel finally became confident that this boy would survive.

And so, it was hard to leave her when she was so far along. He worried about what would happen while she was beyond his reach. He worried what would happen to her, _if_ something happened. She never spoke of the babies. She would cry silently, and then wiping her tears away, rise and somehow manage to pick up the pieces of her broken heart and continue on. He was amazed by her; by her seemingly endless strength. He was amazed by her loyalty to him; to this difficult life he had handed her.

***DB***

He stood on their front porch in the early dawn holding tightly to her hands, not wanting to go.

"Grace and Matt are coming to help you move to the fort. Wait for them, 'Becca. Don't try and pack up by yourself."

"Stop fussing, Dan. I'm fine. This baby is fine." She reached up wrapping her arms around him. She leaned against his shoulder. "Who ever thought there would come a day when you'd be begging to stay and I'd be telling you to go?"

"I never _want_ to be away from you, Rebecca." He had said seriously. "You know that, mo chroi."

"I do." She stood on tiptoe, kissing him, her swollen belly between them; their child kicked and turned as he returned her kiss.

"Someone's jealous." He said with a laugh, and then holding her face in his hands he had rested his forehead against hers.

"May the Lord bless thee and keep thee. May his countenance shine upon thee. May He be gracious unto thee and grant thee peace." He whispered softly and then gently kissed her forehead in benediction.

"Be careful." Her voice was weak with emotion, stunned by his gentleness; Surprised that even after all these years he could still overwhelm her with his goodness. "Ta mo chroi istigh ionat."

"Ta mo chroi istigh ionat." He repeated back to her, and after kissing her one more time he turned and walked away from her saying, "Go deo, 'Becca. Mo chroi, go deo."


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

Patrick Rowan Boone had the good sense to be born two weeks after his father's return. Daniel was grateful to be home for his youngest son's arrival. He had been fearful that he would be far from Rebecca when her time finally came. The whole time that he had worked to negotiate peace between two settlements who seemed hell-bent on war, he was distracted by worry that his child was already born. He had spent his last day in the camp of Grey Beaver, a Shawnee friend of his. They watched the two settlements with a shake of the head and a sigh.

"Your people seem determined to destroy each other." Grey Beaver said.

"They aren't my people." Daniel Boone said with raised eyebrow.

"That is clearly seen." Grey Beaver agreed. "You leave in the morning?"

"Yes and they'll have to muddle through. I just hope the Shawnee understand that any actions on their part, having nothing to do with us." He ran a hand through his thick brown hair.

"I do." Grey Beaver studied his tall friend. "They seem at peace. Why are you still worried?"

"Oh." Daniel shrugged. "I am anxious to be at home."

"For a warrior, you seem most content at home with your woman."

"I am." He grinned. "Don't make fun, Grey Beaver. I've _seen _you with White Dove and your little ones."

"A good woman is a good thing." Grey Beaver smiled.

"We are expecting a new one any day. I'm just anxious to return." He confessed.

"Why wait for the dawn then?" Grey Beaver reached out and shook Daniel's hand and turned back to his village and his family as the tall man considered his words and began the work of packing up and heading home.

***DB**

Rebecca Boone had no expectation that Daniel would return before the birth of their child. She knew most women carried their babies for nine months but she never seemed to get that long. When nine months had come and gone she began to despair that he would ever be born. She imagined herself carrying this child forever. It was a sensation entirely unknown to her. She had spent so much of her previous pregnancies, begging for the baby to be allowed to grow within her just one more day. But Patrick seemed to content to sleep safe within her.

Daniel had run to her with open arms, as she had moved toward him slowly; heavy on her feet.

"Rebecca Boone!" He'd called out to her. "You are wonderously and beautifully round!"

"Oh, that's a compliment! You mean BIG!" She had said crossly.

"I'm pleased to see that you waited for me is all." He said wrapping his arms around her and kissing her.

A week later, she was irritable and sharp; easily angered. His patience and kindness only seemed to make things worse.

"Don't patronize me!" She said stubbornly.

"I'm not trying to." He sighed, rubbing his face with his hand wearily. "Why don't you go lie down for a spell."

"I don't want to!" She stomped her foot for emphasis and then had immediately felt such remorse. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I can't . . ." And she'd burst into tears.

"Rebecca!" His eyes widened in shock and surprise, unsure what to say to help her.

"Oh! Leave me be!" She said disappearing in their cabin. He sighed heavily and found himself walking rapidly to the settlement. He gave up any pretense of being a man in control of the situation and headed straight to the Bradley cabin. Matt was repairing a fence in the yard.

"The baby here?" He asked looking up at Daniel. Matt was accustomed to expectant fathers showing up looking for his wife.

"Not yet." Daniel said with a sigh.

"Oh! You've got a much worse problem, then." Matt said laughing.

"I do."

"Women can be perplexing on the best of days." Matt said setting aside his tools and leaning against the fence rail.

"Truer words ain't never been spoke."

"There's nothing you can do." Matt said meeting Daniel's eye.

"Well, that's real encouraging." Daniel sighed. "If I try and comfort her; she gets angry. If I treat her like normal; she gets angry. If I don't do anything; she gets angry."

"She's not really angry." Grace said stepping onto the porch. "She's weary and anxious. You _know_, Rebecca, Daniel. Her temper's just for show."

"There's nothing you can do." Matt repeated. "The good news is that it can't be much longer now."

"My mind knows it." Daniel accepted. "But my heart is weary. I don't cotton being helpless."

"You should have considered that about nine months ago." Matt said with raised eyebrows.

"Too late now." Daniel nodded. He glanced up to where Grace stood on the porch, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders and lifting a basket. "You coming to visit?"

"I imagine you would appreciate it." She grinned at him.

"You can't comprehend how much." He confessed.

They walked in amiable silence toward the Boone cabin. Daniel appreciated Grace's influence on his headstrong wife. She'd known Rebecca from the beginning, and had seen right through Becky's show of temper from that first day. It had always comforted him to think Grace was nearby when he was away. She seemed the only one who understood Becky's moods.

"It is such a good sign that this baby is waiting so long." Grace said at last, looking up at Daniel.

"I reckon so." He agreed.

"You've been worried."

"Well, it ain't so much worried as concerned." He admitted, and Grace chuckled at the tall man's refusal to admit weakness.

"I was worried." He turned sharply, meeting her dark eyes.

"You were?"

"I'm protective of her. She's suffered enough, hasn't she?" He nodded silently. "And, I couldn't bear the thought of seeing her face go blank and empty again." Grace shuddered at the memory of the past, and Rebecca's stoic response to loss after loss.

"Not this time." Daniel said hopefully.

"Not this time." Grace agreed with a grin. "That baby is waiting so long, he might just walk out when the time comes."

"I sure hope it is soon." Daniel sighed. "I'm happy that this baby hasn't come early, but seeing her suffer so, well, a man feels a little guilty."

"As you should." Grace said with a grin.

***DB***

It was another week before Patrick _finally_ made his appearance. In the end, Daniel was so overwhelmed with gratitude that he nearly forgot to be anxious. He paced the yard excitedly, and gave a shout of joy when the sharp sound of a baby's cries broke the early morning silence. Grace came to the doorway of the cabin then.

"You want to meet your son?" She asked, smiling at him.

Daniel rushed past her to where, Rebecca lay, tucked in their bed, a small bundle in her arms.

"Becky!" He said as tears gathered in his green eyes. He knelt beside the bed and peered into the little bundle. His eyes widened in surprise.

"He's huge!" He said looking down at his newborn son.

"Believe me, I know." Rebecca said laughing.

He looked over at her and leaning across their child, he kissed her. "Becky! You are a wonder!"

"It wasn't all my doing." She blushed.

"My part weren't too difficult." He ran a hand over her cheek. He turned his attention back to his son. "His hair is red!"

"I am afraid so." She sighed.

"Oh, I love red hair." He grinned at her, laughing when her blush deepened. "Ta mo chroi istigh ionat."

"I love you, too." She smiled up at him, and Daniel sighed contentedly, relieved beyond words that he was here; relieved beyond words that this child was healthy and strong.

***DB***

"I just thought having a brother would be more exciting." Israel peered down into the crib where he was rocking his baby brother to sleep.

"He's only two months old!" His mother remarked from where she and Jemima worked to prepare supper. "Maybe you should give him more time." She smiled and winked at her husband who was sitting at the table watching Israel with amusement.

"Well, little brothers can be trouble." Jemima said. "I told you that, Israel."

"He ain't trouble." Israel sighed and turned to climb onto his father's lap. "He just can't do nothing, yet."

"He can't do anything." Rebecca corrected.

"Oh, he can do lots of things." Daniel said, running his fingers through Israel's bright, blond hair.

"Like what?"

"He can wake everyone in this cabin up in two seconds flat." Daniel said cheerfully. "He can make your Ma sprint across this cabin faster than a jack rabbit. And he can make grown men talk like they ain't never learned how."

Israel looked at his father and shaking his head. "I guess it's a start." He studied his brother thoughtfully. "He can make this whole cabin smell just awful and smile about it."

"He can at that." Daniel said laughing.

"Israel Boone!" Rebecca said sharply. "Gentlemen don't speak of such things!"

"Well, he's got a point, Becky." Daniel grinned at his wife, who waved a towel at him and turned back to her work.

"He can make us all smile, too." Israel added thoughtfully. "I guess he ain't so bad."

"Give him time." Daniel repeated. "You two will be causing havoc for your Ma 'fore you know it."

"I don't doubt that!" Becky agreed.

***DB***

"I am happy to report that he looks more like Rebecca." Mingo said lifting Patrick up into his arms.

"I should be insulted, Mingo, but I agree." Daniel said to his friend.

"Well, you have to face facts, Daniel. Rebecca is much better looking than you. She always has been."

"Oh, stuff and nonsense." Rebecca said with a wave of hand from where she sat in her rocking chair, knitting. "You two."

"Ah, you've made her blush, Mingo!" Daniel laughed and winked at his wife. "I'll tell you a little secret. She might be tough of as iron, but Mrs. Boone's a tad bit vain."

"I am not!"

"It's alright, darlin'. Everyone's got feet of clay." He laughed. "You see any other woman shrink down that small right after their baby's born? Becky Boone won't cotton to not looking her finest - be it Indian attack, flood, fire or newborn son."

"Well, I've had my fair share of all of those."

"That's true." Mingo agreed. Patrick began to fuss and cry, and Mingo crossed to where Rebecca sat. She set her knitting aside and took her son into her arms.

"He's hungry." She said rising.

"Stay put, ah grah." Daniel said. "No need for you to leave that warm fire. Mingo and I were gonna head over to the fort."

"You'll stay for supper though, won't you?" She asked Mingo.

"I was hoping." Mingo admitted.

"You stay as long as you like."

"You need anything?" Daniel asked her, but she shook her head. Her face was down, as she gazed at Patrick who suckled her finger. A soft smile rested on her peaceful features, and Daniel inhaled sharply, struck by her beauty. Ignoring, Mingo, he crossed to her and kissed her cheek. "We'll be back, darlin'." She smiled up at him and he remembered Grey Beaver's words. _A good woman is a good thing._

***DB***

"I know that look, Daniel, and don't start." Mingo said as they turned from the Boone cabin.

"What?" Daniel asked.

"Don't pretend that you aren't going to talk about finding me a wife."

"You ought to marry, Mingo." Daniel said. "You are a nice enough fella, and being married is . . . well, it's a wonderous thing."

"I shall remind you of that next time you are hiding out from Rebecca's temper." Mingo raised his eyebrows at his tall friend.

"Oh, well, her temper's not so much." Daniel said dismissively.

Mingo laughed out loud. "You are swept up in a cloud of joy, Daniel." He shook his head. "Still, it is good to see you both so happy. I am pleased that Patrick is so healthy and strong."

"He is!" Daniel remarked. "He's the happiest baby, too. He doesn't hardly fuss, and is always smiling. He reminds me of James."

Mingo was surprised to hear Daniel speak so easily of their oldest child, lost long ago. He rarely did. In fact, he never spoke of any of the lost children. What Mingo knew of them came from overheard conversations in the fort. The only time Daniel had remarked on it was to spill the whole terrible story of James' death and right after Elizabeth, MIngo had come to the cabin to find Rebecca alone. She said nothing, but everything about her radiated worry for Daniel, and so he had left to search for him - finding him at last in a small clearing. The two friends had said nothing as Mingo sat beside him in the dark woods. After a long time, Daniel had sighed and finally said, "I can't manage her heart gettin' broke like that."

He was happy to see them so joyful. Much as it pained Daniel to see Rebecca suffer, it pained Mingo to see his good friends battle grief. He smiled at Daniel as they reached the gates of the fort.

"Now, why were we headed to the fort?" He asked.

"So, I can brag about my new son!" Daniel said clapping his friend of the back. "And to see if there are any prospects for a wife for you."

"See! I knew it!" Mingo said turning and pointing at Daniel. "You _were_ thinking about it."

"I never said I weren't." Daniel said with a laugh. "You're just scared of getting married, Mingo. It's alright. You can admit it to me. But it is a little silly; strong warrior such as yourself being scared of girls."

"You better watch it." Mingo warned his friend. "I'm being patient with you so as not to interfere with this joyous time, but you keep teasing me, and I'll start telling all the stories _I know_ of Daniel Boone. You want folks to hear about the time that skunk chased you up a tree?"

"Don't be mean-spirited, Mingo or I'll tell the Widow Perkins you've taken an interest." He grinned maliciously.

"I suggest we call a truce!" Mingo replied.

They entered the gates of the fort and headed into the tavern where they were warmly greeted. It seemed that everyone was happy to offer their congratulations to Daniel. Several rounds of Blue Thunder were shared and it was well after dark that Daniel and Mingo headed back to the Boone cabin. Daniel looked up into the clear sky and began to sober as he realized how very late it was; how very late _he _was.

"Mingo, I fear we may be in for a mite of trouble. You go in first. Becky's less likely to holler at you."

"Oh, no! I'm not going in at all! I'm going to my lean-to. You are on your own."

"You'd abandon me! What kind of friendship is that?"

"It wouldn't be proper to go calling at this time of night. Anyone with any manners knows that, Daniel. Besides, I'm a little afraid of Rebecca's temper."

"Maybe I'll go with you to your lean-to." Daniel considered.

"No." Mingo said sternly, pushing the tall man toward the front steps. "Go on now."

"I don't think I ought to." Daniel hesitated. "I'll only wake everyone up."

"I doubt Rebecca is asleep." Mingo told him. "Besides, you were just telling me that marriage is wonderous. Now go on, enjoy all that wonder."

"Mingo, I'll remember this." Daniel said pointing a long finger at the Cherokee's chest. "'Til my dying day, I'll remember how you abandoned me in my hour of need _and_ threw my own words back in my face."

Mingo laughed. "Remember it all you want, but I am going to my lean-to. Good night, Daniel and may God have mercy on you."

"Good night, Mingo. I sure hope your sleep is easy knowing that you've failed a good friend."

"Thank you." Mingo said with a grin. "I hope to." He turned and walked away as Daniel Boone, brave trailblazer, steeled himself to face his wife.

Daniel pushed the door open slowly, hoping against hope that she'd gone to bed angry. He winced when he saw the china and the candlesticks on the table. She had, no doubt, prepared a fine dinner for them.

"Home at last then." Her voice sliced through the quiet of the cabin.

"Yes, I, uh, well . . ." He stammered, closing the door behind him. "I lost track of time and . . ."

"I can smell that Blue Thunder from here, Daniel Boone!" Her voice was quiet, but cold as a December morning.

"Yes." He admitted. "Some of the fellas wanted to congratulate me, and they . . ."

"Congratulate you?" Her voice rose in surprise. "It was you that suffered through those hours of labor?"

"I see your point, but Becky, it would've been impolite to refuse them." He struggled to find the right words to soothe her temper.

"I cooked all afternoon! I was hoping we could all . . ." She sighed, stopping herself. "Never mind. I don't want to be the kind of wife who nags." She rose stiffly. "I'll turn in."

"You don't nag." He said to her. "And I should've come home. I knew you were fixing us a nice supper. It was wrong of me, Becky. You _should_ be angry." He stepped in front of her, blocking her path to their room.

"You've a right to celebrate." She said softly. "You must be so relieved to have the chance to share good news for once, and not be trapped in this cabin trying to comfort me."

"Rebecca, what are you thinking?" He asked utterly confused by her.

"Nothing." She looked up at him. "It's nothing." She shook her head at him.

"It isn't nothing. I'm sorry I was late. I'm sorry I drank too much."

"It isn't that. I knew that you might be gone awhile. You hadn't been to the fort since Patrick was born. I guess I had too much time to think while I was waiting for you." She sighed.

"And what is it you are thinking?" He asked her.

"I don't know. I guess, just that I don't want to be the kind of wife who nags and complains. I know those last few days before Patrick was born weren't easy. I am sorry that I was so . . ."

Daniel laughed out loud and then hugged Rebecca to him. "Darlin' let me make sure I've got things straight - you are apologizing to me? I stayed out late. Didn't send word. Didn't show up for supper. I drank too much and tried to sneak in like a boy late for his chores - and _you_ are apologizing to _me?_"

"I just don't ever want to . . ." She bit the corner of her lip and drawing in a deep breath met his eyes at last. "I know you'd rather be off exploring. I know you'd rather be blazing a new trail. I don't want to make you regret coming out of those woods to me."

Her voice was soft and unsure. He stepped back from her in surprise. They'd been married nearly ten years and yet she held this secret fear in her heart.

"Rebecca Anne Boone!" His voice was thick with emotion. "You've been at my side all these years, and you worry I might not come home to you? I'm ashamed."

She had turned away from him, but at these last words she looked up sharply.

"What . . ." She began but he interrupted her.

"I'm ashamed to have done such a poor job of being husband to you that you wouldn't know that it isn't those woods the are tucked inside my heart." He stepped back to her, his hands on her shoulders. He reached out with a gentle hand, lifting her chin so that he could look into her beautiful eyes. "I don't come home to you out of obligation, Becky. I'm not running home because I fear your anger. I'm running home because my legs can't get me here fast enough. I'm running home because you are my truest companion and my nighest friend. Thou art mine own heart." He shook his head at her and laughing at himself said, "No one else on this whole wide world is so deep in my heart they unlock all those Quaker words I buried when I was just a boy."

"You must think I'm silly." She said and sighing she rested her head against his shoulder. "I don't know why I sometimes feel so . . . I do believe you, Daniel. I know you. Sometimes, I just . . ."

"I'm not like him, Rebecca." He said softly, his hand brushing the hair away from her face.

"I know that." She swallowed down tears, and looked up at him. "Maybe we shouldn't have named him Patrick. I don't know what I was thinking."

"It was your grandfather's name, too, Becky. And as to Timothy Patrick Bryan, well, he is who he is. We can't change that. Although, if _I could_ . . ." He shook his head. "There's an ocean of changes I'd make."

"I thought it would be like redemption." She sighed. "Naming Patrick would mean I'd let go of the past and forgiven him."

"He's your father, Becky. He does the best he can, and as to the past, you know he regrets it."

"I know." She moved closer in his embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry it has cast such a long shadow over me. You are right. When I get to worrying about you coming home, it isn't really you I'm thinking of at all. It's him; and me standing all alone at the dock waiting to be sold."

He could see her as she must have been then; small, defenseless, alone. It filled him with a dark and bitter rage to think of that day. Her mother barely laid to rest, and she, all of ten years old, ripped from her home, her sister, her life - to pay off her father's debts. He thought of the way that Jemima would stand at the edge of the porch scanning the horizon for a glimpse of him. She would run to him with arms outstretched when he came into view; ready to be lifted up into his arms and given a kiss; always expecting his return. Rebecca must have felt the same way; always hoping, always trusting.

Her father had found her recently - travelled an ocean and a continent to find her, but had disappeared almost as quickly as he'd arrived. Though they had managed a kind of peace, he still felt a slow, simmering anger toward the man who had so wounded his wife. He didn't really understand how deep the wounding went until she quietly revealed her secret fears - like tonight.

"You aren't the one who should be apologizing, Becky. And it is redemption." He smiled thinking of Patrick's loving and happy countenance. "Your baby boy is sweet, trusting and good. He is happy, darlin'. He is happy because he is confident in his mother's love."

"His father's too." She whispered softly. "You'd never leave him alone in his hour of need."

She rested her head against his broad shoulder, and he could feel all the muscles in her neck and shoulders relax; finally at peace. "Sometimes it is difficult to believe." She confessed to him.

"What is?" He asked her.

"That I am here now, with you. I have a house with books and China plates, and three sweet children. I can't believe that you would choose me." She looked up into his green eyes. "They said I was just a bound girl. A debtor, no account Irish girl who should keep her mouth closed and know her place."

"No." He shook his head angrily. "They got it wrong, Rebecca. You are Rebecca Anne Bryan Boone, prettiest gal in the new world. People travel miles just to get a whiff of your stew - not too mention that you got the truest and straightest shot in all of Kentuck. You are the sweetest wife, and mother. You are my beloved and they named a whole settlement after you. That fort's got your name on it, ah grah."

"That's your name, Daniel." She said giving his shoulder a light push. "The name you gave me."

"But it wasn't me they were thinking of when they put that sign up high." He kissed her cheek. "Now, come on, darlin', it is late and you must be tuckered out. That youngest boy of yours will wake up soon. Now's your chance to get a little bit of sleep 'fore he does." He guided her gently to the curtain that separated their room from the main cabin.

She fell quickly asleep, nestled safe in his arms, but he was awake long into the night wondering where his father-in-law was just now. He thought of his own dear, sweet children and prayed that they would be confident in his love for all time; he prayed that they would never feel the piercing sting of abandonment. He prayed that whatever hour of need they faced, they would find him at their side; strong, reassuring, and protective.

And yet, soon, he would fail them all.


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel Boone stacked another log on the pile just behind his cabin and stepping back surveyed his work. He nodded his head satisfied that Becky would have more than enough wood to last until his return. He would be leaving with Mingo in two days to check their traps and see how many pelts they could bring home this year. He was in tremendously good spirits, and although reluctant to leave his wife and children, happy for a chance to stretch his legs and explore.

He had no qualms about this trip. At three months, Patrick was a cheerful, healthy boy who seemed to bring joy to the entire family. He was rarely fussy and it was so easy to make him laugh. Even Israel agreed that although he wasn't much of a playmate just yet, Patrick was a source of laughter for the entire Boone family.

"You look like a cat that just swallowed a canary." Becky said to him as they sat by the fire that evening. She was in her rocking chair knitting and he across from her with his feet up, contemplating another slice of pie.

"I got reason to be happy. I got three happy children, a snug cabin in the prettiest spot in all of Kentuck, a good meal in my belly and the straightest rifle ever made."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Well, a good gun is a blessing when trouble comes."

"I forgot to mention the most important thing." He said rising and pulling a footstool beside her. He sat at her feet and smiling up at her said teasingly, "I have a nice warm pair of breeches."

"What more does a man need?" She shook her head laughing.

"A sweet girl to sew 'em." He leaned forward, giving her a kiss. "A beautiful red haired trouble-maker who has a wicked temper but the sweetest kisses and is almost always smiling."

"Oh, now. You're just sweet-talking me for that last slice of pie."

"I ain't hungry for pie, darlin'!"

She set her knitting aside and wrapped her hands around his neck, smiling up into his green eyes. "Go ahead and sweet talk me then, ah grah. "

"I'm done with talkin'."

"You are?" Her light laugh filled his heart and smiling even still, he found himself lost inside her kisses.

***DB***

"Now, listen here, Patrick. Don't you go growing too much. I'll be back in a few weeks." He held his youngest son close, kissing his tiny nose. "I gotta go out with Mingo and make sure we have enough pelts to sell so your mama can make a pretty dress to wear and maybe a sack of flour or two."

The family stood on the front porch of the Boone cabin to say goodbye and see Daniel and Mingo off. Rebecca emerged from the cabin with Mima close behind.

"You nearly forgot those fritters!" She handed the pack to Mingo who accepted them greedily.

"Daniel, your wife is my favorite thing about you." He said with a wink at Rebecca who waved a dismissive hand at him.

"Most folks say that." Daniel said agreeably. He gave Patrick one more kiss and handed the beloved bundle to his wife. "He'll be so big when next I see him."

"How long you planning on being gone, Mr. Boone?" Rebecca asked.

"Six weeks or so."

"I doubt he'll leave home before your return." She told him as he lifted Israel up for a kiss.

"Am I in charge, Pa?"

"Now, why would you be in charge?" Daniel asked.

"'Cause I'm the oldest boy." Israel explained. "Nathan says that girls need a man to boss 'em."

Daniel glanced at Rebecca who, although tapping her toe angrily, remained silent.

"Is Nathan married?"

"No! Pa! He's little, like me."

"Ah! That explains it then! You mind your Ma. _She's _in charge."

"But what if something happens? I should protect her." Israel protested.

"Israel, do you know _anyone_ who shoots straighter than your Ma?" Mingo asked.

"Pa." Israel said.

"Besides him?"

"No." Israel admitted.

"She'll manage things just fine then." Mingo said and Israel smiled with a nod of his head.

Daniel kissed his son and setting him down said, "Mingo's right, Israel. You do as your Ma says. But as for me being a better shot than her. . ."

"Oh, now! Leave the boy to his illusions." Rebecca interrupted. "Don't rob him of his hero."

Daniel winked at his wife and opened his arms to Jemima. "What's the rule about boys, Mima?" He asked hugging her close.

"Stay three feet away. Try not talk to them. Run if they talk to me and if I can help it, never look in their direction." She recited.

"Good girl." He kissed the top of her head.

"But Pa, if I don't look in their direction, how can I be sure to stay three feet away?"

"Don't fuss over details." He said kissing her. "You make sure your Ma rests now and again."

"Yes, sir."

"Quit fussing, Dan. We'll manage just fine 'til you get back. You be careful. It'd be mighty inconvenient if I have to come rescue you." She lay a hand against his shoulder, Patrick in her other arm.

"You seem awfully anxious to send me off. Is there something I should know Rebecca?" He asked with raised eyebrows.

"Daniel." She shook her head at him.

"Well, you won't even have to ask this time. I _promise_ I'm coming back to you, so you just keep that in mind. Don't find some other fella to pay you compliments. In fact, I think you should follow 'Mima's rules for boys too."

"You are ridiculous." She said laughing and kissing his cheek. "I've got a cabin to manage, three children to raise, not to mention the chickens, the milk cow, the garden and the corn. I don't have time for anything else."

"Let's keep it that way." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in close. She smelled of lavender and fresh bread. He breathed in deeply, burying his face in her hair ignoring Mingo and his children. "I'll be back 'fore you know it Rebecca. You take care of these youngins and yourself."

"Yes, sir." She said laughing at his seriousness. He leaned in and gave her a kiss, but it was quick and not at all the kiss he wanted to leave her with, but the children were watching and although, Mingo had pretended to take interest in re-packing his bag, he felt his eyes on him too.

"I love you Rebecca." He whispered in her ear.

"I love you too, Daniel. Now, get going so you can hurry back to us."

"Yes, ma'am." He nodded at her and stepping away moved alongside Mingo. They turned to go, and she called out after them.

"You be careful! We'll look for you in a month or so." She stood on the edge of the porch as Israel and 'Mima walked alongside them. They would follow them to the edge of the river. He glanced back over his shoulder, he watched her standing alone on the porch. She held Patrick in her arms, and her hair was loose and the soft breeze blew it around her shoulders. He was stunned again by her beauty and his good fortune at having somehow convincing her to choose him. He sighed as he turned away feeling an odd sense of foreboding. _I'll never see them again_, flitted unexpectedly through his brain, and so he glanced back once more to reassure himself. She lifted a hand and waved and then turned disappearing inside the cabin. He prayed she would be there still when he returned.


	4. Chapter 4

Rebecca awoke later than expected that Thursday morning. Patrick had slept a long time and she was surprised to find he'd missed his early morning feeding. _Perhaps he knows it is my birthday, _she thought to herself.

She had no expectations that this day would be remembered. Daniel had only been gone for three weeks and beside birthdays were for children. He would remark on it upon his return and give her a kiss and a flower or two. They never made much of birthdays. She would bake him a spice cake each year - his favorite, and he would eat nearly as much batter as cake.

She stretched and crossed the floor to where Patrick's cradle sat. He awoke when she lifted him. He looked up at her with deep green eyes that reminded her so much of Daniel. "You must be hungry!" She said kissing his cheek. As if on cue, Patrick began to wail. "Don't yell at me!" She said chuckling and settling into her rocking chair. "You're the one who overslept." He quieted as he ate greedily. She settled against the back of the chair, running a hand over Patrick's soft cheek. He felt slightly warm. She hoped he wasn't getting a cold.

***DB***

Her days were relentlessly repetitive when he was away - not that her days were filled with excitement when he was home. Life on the frontier was not easy. The land was beautiful but hard-fought. It seemed the every single inch had to be battled and conquered. It seemed that every time they conquered one part something would happen - Indian attack, fire, a bad storm. She loved Kentucky; had loved it before she'd ever seen it. She would listen to stories of the frontier and closing her eyes imagine wide open spaces and a land where anyone could rise to greatness - even a bound girl like herself. When her chance came she was more than ready and now all these years later it was as if she'd fallen inside one of her old daydreams - living at the edge of the wilderness with a loving, kind husband -babies at her feet. She sighed contentedly and looking down discovered Patrick had fallen asleep. She kissed his head and put him back in his cradle. It wasn't like him to eat so little and fall asleep so quickly. She turned to dress and face another day of waiting for his return.

***DB***

"You make the worst coffee I've ever had." Daniel said and settled back on the ground near the campfire, his hands behind his head.

"I refuse to accept any criticism from you, Daniel. You are no better and besides your judgement on cooking is completely skewed."

"What do you mean?" He lifted his head slightly, trying to determine if his friend had insulted him.

"You eat food prepared by the best cook in the new world." Mingo explained.

"Oh, Rebecca's cooking is the best on this earth." He settled back gazing up at the starry sky wondering if she were looking at it too. "Today was her birthday or tomorrow is - I get mixed up sometimes."

"We are most always gone for her birthday."

"Well, it is her misfortune to have been born during prime trapping season." He sighed. "I wouldn't mind being able to spend her birthday with her." He glanced at Mingo. "She used to go trapping with me."

"Really?" Mingo looked at his friend in surprise. "Rebecca?"

"It was before the babies. We were newlyweds and reluctant to separate." The tall man blushed. "She made herself a pair of breeches and you know what a good, strong hiker she is. She was a good companion." He smiled at the memory.

"I imagine the coffee was a sight better." Mingo grinned.

"It were. She's prettier by firelight than you, too."

"No need to be insulting!" Mingo laughed.

"Ah, well we were young once. T'werent nobody in the world but us."

"There still isn't." Mingo said. "You are the marriedest man I know."

"And why haven't you married Mingo? You are nice looking fella. You got good manners and such. We ought to find you a pretty girl to call your own. Why even old Yad got himself a girl bold enough to put up with his gruff ways. There ought to be someone for you."

"Well, I am a man in the middle. No Cherokee father will accept my English roots. And do you know of any white woman willing to consider me?"

"What? Who would fuss over nonsense like that?"

"Anyone who's last name isn't Boone." Mingo sighed. "Others don't see the world as you do. I might have to wait until Jemima's grown."

"My baby girl is never growing up so you best find a wife now."

"Easy there, _Pa_." Mingo laughed.

"I hope they are well." Daniel said wistfully. "Another two weeks or so and we'll have a fine cup of coffee again."

"And that good Irish stew."

_And a good Irish lass._ Daniel thought but said nothing to Mingo, not wanting to brag. He felt sorry for his good friend; facing the world all alone. He drifted to sleep dreaming of Rebecca's soft skin and sweet kisses.

***DB***

Patrick slept most of the morning and Rebecca thought he might be facing his first growing spurt but a dull worry nagged at the back of her mind. She and Mima worked on a berry cobbler together. Mima had suggested it.

"It is your birthday, Ma. We should have a treat."

"How did you know it is my birthday?" She asked surprised her daughter had known.

"Pa made me a calendar and I marked off a square each night until your birthday. He said I had to be extra good and to give you a kiss from him."

"Really?" Rebecca said surprised he'd been so thoughtful. It wasn't like the tall frontiersman to plan so far ahead. "I'll take the kiss now."

Mima kissed her mother. "Happy birthday!"

"Thank you." Rebecca turned back to her work happy tears stinging her eyes. "Can you check on Patrick? He should be starving. He's slept all morning."

"He's been so quiet today." Jemima remarked. "He must know it is your birthday."

"He is such a good baby." Rebecca remarked.

Israel came into the cabin, the door slamming behind him. "Sorry, Ma." He said cringing at the sound and then holding out a small bouquet of flowers to her. "Happy birthday."

Rebecca smiled at her small, blond son accepting the flowers. She leaned over kissing his cheek. "Well, thank you very much, Israel. I'm being spoiled today."

"He feels hot, Ma." Jemima said carrying Patrick into the room.

"He does?" Rebecca put a hand to the baby's cheek. "Oh, he is warm. 'Mima can you fetch a tub of water. Let's give him a bath to see if we can't bring his fever down."

***DB***

Rebecca Boone stood on the front porch gazing out at the bright stars. She wondered fleetingly if Daniel were staring up at the same sky just then. She sighed and ran a hand through her red hair. She'd been awake most of the night, unable to get Patrick's fever down, unable to get him to eat very much. She was worried. She was never at peace when any of the children were sick, but something about Patrick's illness felt different - dangerous. She was waiting for the light of dawn to send 'Mima to the fort to get Cincinnatus who knew more about doctoring. She chewed at the corner of her lip and thought briefly of waking Jemima or Israel and sending them to Grace. She knew that it was probably the same fever and chills that had swept through the settlement, but she longed for someone to reassure her and comfort her.

She turned back inside the cabin and gazed down at her baby son. His cheeks were pink with fever, but his breathing was steady. He seemed peaceful enough. She sighed wishing she knew more about medicine; wishing the settlement had a real doctor.

"Ma? Is he any better?" She looked up surprised to see Jemima standing at the bottom of the ladder to the loft. She hadn't even heard the young girl climb down.

"Still has a fever." Rebecca sighed.

"Let me go get Aunt Grace." Mima said. "It isn't far and I'm not scared." Jemima was already reaching for her sweater.

"Oh, there's no need, 'Mima." Rebecca shook her head.

"She can hold your hand since Pa's not here." Her daughter looked up at her with wide blue eyes. "You look lonesome."

"I suppose . . ."

"It won't take a minute." Jemima said accepting her mother's hesitation as a yes.

"Wake Israel and take him with you." Rebecca said hesitating.

"So he can protect me?" Jemima laughed. "I'll be right back, Ma."

Rebecca stood at the edge of the park and watched her young daughter make her way down the familiar and worn path to the Bradley cabin. She watched until Jemima disappeared, swallowed up by darkness. She glanced up just in time to see a bright star shoot across the midnight sky. _Make him well. _She wished quietly.

Jemima did not return to the cabin. Grace had tucked her into bed next to her own daughter and had come alone.

"Honestly, Becky, why do you have to be so stubborn? He's been sick since noon - you should have sent for me then." Grace said as she climbed up the steps of the Boone cabin.

"Oh, it is most likely that same fever that all the Simons children had. You've got your own children to tend. You shouldn't have to babysit me." Rebecca said embarrassed.

Grace wrapped strong arms around her friend and hugging her close said, "Oh, but you are my baby sister, remember? Who else do you send for in the middle of the night? Come on let me see him." Rebecca led Grace inside and the two women fussed over the sleeping baby. Finally Grace looked at Rebecca and said, "Well, I can manage just fine. Why don't you lie down for a few hours. I'll sit up with him. You'll wear yourself out. Matt will go to Cincinnatus as soon as it is dawn, so you've no need to worry over that."

"I'm not sure I could . . ."

"Don't you trust me?" Grace knew that the most effective way to battle Rebecca's will was to challenge her.

"As much as I trust myself; more probably." Rebecca said seriously.

"Alright then, I'll watch over him and you rest." She lifted a hand and rested it on Becky's shoulder. "He's sleeping peacefully now, and I'd wake you if that changed. I'll keep a cool cloth on him. Go on. You've been up all night already. Get some rest, Becky."

Becky hesitated, but bending low kissed Patrick's fevered brow, and with another hug from Grace found herself alone in the room she shared with Daniel. She sat on the big bed and sighed. How she wished he were home now! There was nothing he could do really, but she always felt better with him near. Without really thinking about it, she reached out and wrapped one of his shirts around herself, and lay back on top of the covers. _His fever will break, and he'll be laughing and playful like always. Calm down, Becky. It is just a fever. Babies get fevers. Everything is going to be just fine._ Closing her eyes, she brushed back a lone tear, wishing that she could do a better job of convincing herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

By the eighth day, Rebecca gave up any attempt at hiding her fear and sorrow. Thankfully, the children were with friends inside the fort. As soon as they left the Boone cabin all her walls fell away.

"Why don't you rest a spell?" Anna Walker asked, pushing a strand of blond hair away from her face. She and Grace were always at Rebecca's side and were no doubt as tired as she was.

"No." Becky's voice was sharp. "I want to be with him as long as I can. I want him to know I'm here." She held Patrick in her arms.

"I know, Becky." Anna said gently. "Why don't you take Patrick and lay down in your bed. Grace and I will take turns sitting with you. We will keep watch in case you drift off. Please, Becky, we can't have you sick, too."

"Becky, please." Grace said coming alongside the two women. "I promise you. I will keep watch."

"I'm just so scared to close my eyes." She confessed in a whisper. "No one has to tell me. I know already. I just want as much time as I can have."

"Oh, sweetheart," Tears rolled down Grace's face. "I am so sorry. I am just so sorry." She wrapped an arm around Becky's shoulders.

"Tom and Matt left yesterday to find Daniel." Anna said reaching out and holding onto Becky's arm.

"I can't . . . I can't think of him just now. I need him . . ." Becky lifted a hand to cover her face. "I can't even think of him just now. It hurts too much."

"Just lie down for ten minutes." Grace whispered resting her forehead against Rebecca's. "Please, Becky. Please, for me."

Rising slowly, Rebecca carried her baby son into her room as Grace Bradely kept an arm around her, supporting her every step.

***DB***

"I can't do nothing." Cincinnatus said with a sigh. "I've never seen a fever like it. He won't eat. And now he's got that cough. I can't . . ." The grizzled man paused. "I imagine it is a matter of days now."

"When did Matt and Tom leave?" Isaac Burton asked.

"Day before yesterday." Cincinnatus said.

"Even if they find him. He'll never get here in time." Grace Bradley sighed. "I don't know how she'll manage it. She's lost so much already."

"What about the Cherokee or even the Shawnee? Maybe they got medicine we don't know about?" Benjamin Wheeler asked.

"No." Grace said. "Matt went to the Shawnee four days ago. They sent their healer but he said nothing could be done."

"Surely, Menowah would be willing to . . ." Cincinnatus began but Grace cut him off.

"I went yesterday while she slept. They said it is the dark fever. They said he won't . . ." Grace's voice failed her.

"You went to Chota alone?" Benjamin's eyes grew wide with shock.

"She would for me! He can't help him! No one can. We can't save her child. We can't even bring her husband home to her! She's going to bury him alone!"

"Not alone." Cincinnatus said angrily. "This one thing we _can_ do. She won't stand beside his grave alone."

***DB***

He awoke startled and shaking. He sat up, one hand on Tick-Licker. His eyes scanned the darkness ready for an attack.

"What is it Daniel?" Mingo whispered in the darkness.

"I dunno. I woke up. It was like I heard someone calling out." Daniel rose and scanned their camp. "A dream, I guess. I felt such a heavy sense of dread."

"I didn't hear anything. It must have been a dream." Mingo reassured him.

"Been away from home too long. I always get worrying."

"You do." Mingo agreed. "We'll be home by the end of the week. And when Rebecca sees all these fine pelts she'll be so pleased."

"It has been our best season ever." Daniel agreed.

"You are always out of sorts when you've been away from Rebecca this long. It will be light soon. You'll feel better after we are moving toward home."

The tall man settled back down but sleep escaped him. He couldn't shake the dark dream that had shattered his peace.

***DB***

"It's been four days." Grace began gently.

"Has it?" Rebecca's expression was hollow.

"Yes." Grace reached across the table from where she and Rebecca sat. "Becky, it is time."

"I know you are right. I thought . . ." She rose shakily and tears blurred her blue eyes. "You and Matt have never failed us. I was sure he and Tom would find him."

"I know. I am so sorry." She crossed to where Rebecca stood and was surprised when Becky folded herself into her arms. She held on tightly, shattered to see her strong friend so broken. "Can you take care if things?"

"Yes, Becky. Don't worry." Grace said. "We can manage it for you."

"I can't . . ." She swallowed tears. "He should be home soon. Oh, Grace! How can I tell him?"

"I don't know." Grace said honestly. "But you won't face any of it alone, Becky. I promise it.

***DB***

Tom Bradley stood at the bottom step of the Boone cabin looking up into the dark eyes of his wife.

"She's barely eaten. I don't know Matt. I can't seem to help her." She sighed and sat down on the top step. He was beside her, his arm around her, in seconds.

"You are so tired, Gracie." He kissed her forehead. "As soon as the service is finished, Tom and I will go back out."

"I've never her seen her like this. It's like James all over again. She _needs_ him."

"I know, angel. I know."

"He was such a sweet baby. I don't understand why. Why? Why let them have him for those four months? Just so her heart could break all the more? It was better when they were never even born."

"I don't understand it, Grace. I don't know what I would do if something happened to our little ones and I wasn't here for you."

"I better go back inside. She gets restless at night. She's so weak I'm afraid she'll fall." Grace rose slowly. "Kiss the babies for me. Be sure to tuck Anna Lee's doll in with her or she'll wake up crying."

"I know, sweetheart." He said softly. "Don't fret over us, angel." He pulled her into his arms, kissing her gently. She clung tightly to him.

"Oh, Matt! I'm so tired! I just want to be here." She buried her face in his strong shoulder.

"I know darlin'. And there's no where else I want you. But she needs you. You can do this." He moved away from her, his hands on her face. "You are a sister to her."

"I know." She met his eyes and kissed him again. "I best get inside." She slid from his arms and disappeared into the cabin.

He was so reluctant to let her go. She was barely holding on. He wanted nothing more than to take her home and hold her as she let loose her storm of tears and then tuck her into bed and let her sleep. He sighed turning slowly from the cabin. He walked the dark path from the Boone cabin to his own, his thoughts on the anguish Daniel would face on his return.

***DB***

She remembered little of the service. Israel clung to a fold of her skirt, while Jemima held tightly to her hand. She was flanked on either side by Anna Walker and Grace Bradley. She was surrounded by all of Boonesborough. More than that, at the edge of the glade where they lay her small son to rest, an improbable pair stood side-by-side: a Cherokee healer and a Shawnee medicine man. And yet, she had never, ever felt so alone. Even as the preacher spoke words of comfort, her eyes scanned the horizon - ever searching for him.

She sat at the center of it all. The entire settlement bustling around her, but she an island.

"You won't eat nothin', Becky?" Cincinnatus asked, sitting beside her at the table that sat inside the court yard. "I'll fix you anything you ask for - anything at all."

She looked up into the old man's eyes so clearly filled with worry for her. "Maybe later." She said softly and reaching over took his hand.

"Ain't there something I can do for you, Becky?"

"This." She said squeezing his fingers and rested her head against his shoulder.

"I ain't got nowheres else to be." He patted her shoulder affectionately. "Anything you need, Becky." The old man sighed. He'd known he was bound for trouble the second he'd agreed to bring her to the new world.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

They entered familiar territory and Daniel was overjoyed to be so close to home. He longed for Rebecca's embrace and to see his children. He tried to picture Patrick, who would no doubt have grown and grown. He sighed thinking of the sweet feeling of holding a small child in his arms again.

He expected to find Israel on the outskirts of Boonesborough. They often did. Becky had sixth sense about his return, and would send Israel out, but no one met them on the road. It was near dark when they entered the gates of the fort. Boonesborough was small and isolated, and someone returning from a trip generally found themselves surrounded by the entire community, but no one came out to greet them. Daniel attributed this to the late hour of their return, but he felt a growing uneasiness.

They had opted to go straight to the fort to turn their furs over first. He knew that once he set his foot on the front porch of home he would never want to go anywhere else. They entered the tavern, heavy laden with their pelts. It had been one of their best trips and he anticipated a comfortable winter at home with his family. He imagined himself by the fire, Becky across from him with Patrick tucked in her arms. Israel would sit at his feet asking for story after story, as Jemima offered him a second or third piece of pie.

The tavern was nearly empty as they stepped inside. Cincinnatus and Matt Bradley were sitting at the table and both rose, seeing the door open. They stood speechless at seeing the two men enter, and Daniel couldn't read the expression their faces held.

"Daniel?" Matt said. "You are back?"

"Yep. Just now. It is good to see familiar faces. It's been a long time away." Daniel said stretching out his hand to shake Matt's.

"Longer than you know." Matt said shaking his hand. "Mingo, it is good to have you back." He shook Mingo's outstretched hand.

"Daniel!" Cincinnatus said his face a puzzle of confusion. "We . . .we tried to . . ."

"Kind of a strange homecoming." Daniel said. "Where is everyone? Is something wrong?"

"Have you been home yet?" Cincinnatus asked him.

"No, I brought my furs here first." He said piling them on the table. Mingo stood beside him and loaded another pile of furs next to Daniel's.

"Sit down, Dan." Cincinnatus told him his face serious. "We sent a runner but I guess they didn't find you. Dan, I'm sorry. Patrick was sick."

"What do you mean was?" He asked suddenly unable to breathe. He sat helplessly in the chair that Cincinnatus had set in front of him.

"Nothing I did helped." The old man said quietly. "I am so sorry."

Dan's face turned pale, his green eyes filled with shock as he understood. "When?" He asked quietly.

"Six days ago. She wanted to wait for you, but we buried him two days ago."

"Oh, God." He said. "Rebecca. . ." He felt sick, and dizzy. He hung his head, his eyes filling with tears.

Mingo stepped closer to him, and said, "Daniel, let's get you home."

He rose slowly leaning heavily on Mingo's arm. "She was all alone." He said looking at Mingo.

"Grace is with her now. She's been with her since Patrick took sick. We didn't leave her alone, Daniel - not for a second." Matt said coming to stand on the other side of him.

"He's . . .he's . . . gone?" Daniel said feeling completely lost and confused.

"Yes." Matt said. "There was nothing that could be done." He looked into the tall man's face. "Come on, Mingo is right. Let's get you home."

***DB***

She felt nothing at all. She lay in her bed her eyes on the beams above her. She could think of nothing - just simply existed. She breathed in and out and felt nothing at all. She had expected to collapse and weep, but had fallen into bed unable to squeeze out a single tear.

"Becky?" Grace asked from where she sat beside her. "Are you hungry or thirsty?"

She shook her head - forming words seemed to take too much effort. _I'll just lie here, forever._ She thought.

"Matt's leaving at dawn. Tom, Tolliver, Benjamin, Peter, and Allen are all going. They will find him and bring him to you." Grace said reaching out and rubbing Becky's arm.

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" Becky asked, shocked by the bitter sound of her own voice. "There's no need for everyone to fuss. He'll come home when he comes home. There's no urgency any more."

She turned to meet Grace's brown eyes which were filled with tears. Rebecca sighed and turned her face away from Grace. Talking was a bad idea. She closed her eyes trying to erase the memory of her dear friend's pain filled eyes.

"Becky?" Grace said softly. "I wish there was something I could do."

Becky said nothing, kept herself turned away from Grace, but reached back with one hand and clung tightly to Grace's hand.

"I'm so sorry." Grace continued. "He was the sweetest baby." She stopped herself, and glanced around trying to think of something she could say or do that would comfort her broken-hearted friend. _I am completely useless._ She thought bitterly. _Matt should leave tonight!_ Reaching across the bed, she ran her hand through Becky's long red hair. It was the first time she had ever seen Becky with her hair down. She had come to Patrick's service somewhat disheveled - a shocking event that everyone noted. Rebecca Boone always, _always_ had every hair in place. Feeling utterly helpless, she crawled beside her on the bed, wrapping her arms around Rebecca, who said nothing, but held on tightly.

***DB***

He loved the sound of his boot hitting the first step of their porch. It always filled his heart with joy, but not he was filled with a dull, aching terror. She had been all alone. She had faced his illness without him; watched him breathe his last without him; laid him into the earth without him. He was devastated. His shame and guilt and failing her so completely overwhelmed him, and he hesitated before taking the next step.

"Where are the children?" He asked shakily.

"They are with the Walkers tonight." Matt said softly. "Do you want me to go in first and let her know you are home?"

But even as he spoke the words, the door swung open and she stood in the open doorway. Her hair was down and she looked so small. Her face was pale with grief, her bright blue eyes dull and empty. He stood where he was feeling that the distance between them was too great a chasm for him to cross.

"Dan?" Her voice was small and frightened. "You came home to me?"

Her desperation somehow gave him the strength to rise the last few steps. He stood before her, his arms already aching to embrace her. "I did." He said reaching out with a trembling hand to push the hair away from her face. "I will always come home to you."

"But you came home too late." She whispered, and he felt his knees buckle as though he'd been struck down by a giant. He felt Mingo, and Matt supporting him from behind and recognized that he would have fallen if they had not been there.

"I know, Becca, and I am so sorry." He stood frozen unsure what to do - afraid that she would rage at him and hung his head unable to meet her eyes. He was stunned to feel her hand on his arm pulling him toward her. He wrapped his arms around her and felt her melt against him.

"But you are here now, mo chroi." She whispered in his ear.

"I am here." He choked out. "Go deo."


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

There was nothing he could do. He was a man of action, and this lack of usefulness frustrated and depressed him. There was no one to blame or hunt down. There was no one to stop or protect. He didn't even have firewood to chop or game to hunt. His friends had made sure his family was well-supplied.

"_You've only her to think of now."_ Matt Bradley had told him.

The one thing he _did_ do was carve yet another stone for their small garden of losses. While Becky slept he would sneak out to the shed and carve the letters of Patrick's name into stone. He set it beside the stones he'd carved for Elizabeth and for James. He sighed looking at the stones below him. It was more than enough when there was just one stone here. He turned to face the cabin behind him. A curl of smoke floated out of the chimney and lifted up into the grey sky.

"Daniel." A voice behind him startled him and he looked up surprised to see Mingo striding toward him. He hadn't seen the Cherokee since the day he had helped him return home.

"Mingo!" Daniel said embracing his friend; his brother.

"You look worse than I imagined." Mingo said gently. "How is Rebecca?"

"She's been a sight better." Daniel said with a sigh. "Come inside. She'll be pleased to see you regardless of the circumstances." He turned to head to the cabin, but Mingo caught his arm.

"Wait, Daniel."

"What is it?" He met the Cherokee's dark, concerned eyes.

"It might be nothing. It was just something I heard and I thought you should be warned, especially under the circumstances."

"What?"

Mingo hesitated, unsure. "I met a man who had just come from Salem and he told a story about a man he'd met at a tavern. A bit of a braggart who said he'd spent some time in the wilderness and was a friend to all the great tribes. He was telling everyone he could walk from one end of Kentucky to the other untouched because he was respected by all the tribes. He bragged about other things as well."

Daniel sighed feeling the weight of the heaviness of Mingo's words.

"He said his daughter lived on the edge of the frontier, and was married to the great woodsman, Daniel Boone."

"Well, first of all, I am a long-hunter, not a woodsman. He could at least get that right." He met Mingo's eyes with a shake of his head. "Let me guess, he was an Irishman who was all talk but hadn't a penny to spend."

"He left his bill behind unpaid." Mingo said.

"This is the last thing she needs right now." Daniel said angrily. "You think he's coming here?"

Mingo said nothing just shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"I think he's coming here." Daniel answered his own question. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Listen, if he's coming from Salem we know which way he'll take." He glanced at the cabin behind him.

"You can't leave her." Mingo said.

"No. I can't."

"I can." Mingo said with a raised eyebrow. "What do you want me to do?"

"I can't ask you to do anything. This is my problem, not yours."

"We are brothers Daniel and Rebecca is important to me too. I don't want to see her hurt any more than you do. Just tell me."

"If you could meet him and stop him. You could bring him to your lean-to or somewhere safe where I could talk to him. I just want to protect her. Every time he comes, he leaves heartache in his wake."

"I'll kidnap him if I have to." Mingo said with a grin. "Don't worry, Daniel. We can work something out."

"I bet he'd take money." Daniel said thoughtfully. "It'd break Becky's heart to know it, but I bet if I offered him money, he'd stay away from her."

"You could be right." Mingo said thoughtfully.

"I wish I weren't." Daniel sighed and reaching out squeezed Mingo's shoulder. "Come on, Becky will take some comfort in feeding you."

***DB***

"Thank you, Rebecca." Mingo said politely as he pushed back his empty bowl. "I ought to be cooking for you and not the other way around."

"No. Thank you. It gave me something else to think about." She sat down across from him, a cup of coffee in her hand. She was thinner than he remembered and seemed less polished. She'd only put part of her hair up and he'd been amazed to see that if fell to her waist. He had never seen it down.

"How are the children?" He asked her.

"They are managing. It is difficult." She said swallowing slowly.

"I wish it weren't so." Mingo said sincerely.

"Oh . . ." But she couldn't finish her sentence. Daniel reached across from where he sat to her left and squeezed her hand.

"We appreciate it." He said huskily. "I haven't had a chance to thank Menwah for sending his healer either. Can you thank him for me?"

"I shall, but he didn't send him. Grace went and asked." Mingo said.

"What?" Becky looked up sharply. "Grace went to Chota?"

"Alone." Mingo said. "They were all very impressed with her dedication and loyalty. It is said among my people that while most white men have no understanding of this land or how to build a community, that the Boones have built a true tribe."

"Does Matt know?" Daniel asked with wide eyes.

"I imagine he does." Mingo said.

"Why would she do that? She's got children of her own! That was dangerous!" Becky asked turning to Daniel.

"You would do the exact same thing!" Mingo said. "You know you would, Rebecca."

"He's right darlin'." Daniel looked at his wife.

"But she should've asked someone to go along - anyone! Why?"

"Because she loves you, Becca." Daniel said gently. "She would do anything for you."

"We all would." Mingo said rising and with a wink at Daniel, he left the cabin.

***DB***

He found Israel at the creek under Jemima's watchful eye.

"Mingo!" Israel said and the small boy vaulted himself into the tall Cherokee's arms.

"Israel! You look as though you've grown some."

"I have." Israel admitted proudly. Mingo set Israel down and the two settled a nearby boulder. "Patrick is dead."

"I know and I am sorry for it Israel." Mingo put his arm around the boy's thin shoulders.

"Pa was gone."

"I know. I was with him."

"He should've been here. Ma was all alone." Israel looked up into Mingo's face. "I don't understand why things die."

"No one does, Israel." He glanced up at Jemima who was hovering just beyond their conversation. "Mima! Come over here." He rose and embraced the girl who clung to him, crying softly.

"Come sit with us." Mingo said releasing her and she sat on the other side of Mingo.

"Have you been to see Ma?" Jemima asked him.

"I just came from your cabin. She fed me a big bowl of stew." He sighed. "They don't come stronger than your Ma. She's endured heartache before. Don't you fret."

"She cried and cried. She wouldn't even get out of bed." Israel said.

"She had reason to weep." Mingo said. "You keep being loving to your Pa and Ma, and give them time."

"He was a good baby." Mima said softly. "I don't know why he had to die."

"I don't either." Mingo said. "Life is unfailingly difficult sometimes, but it can be wonderful too. My people say that pain teaches us to embrace joy when it comes our way."

"I'd rather not learn that lesson." Jemima said thoughtfully. "And I really wish Ma never learned it!"

"You know what, Mima, I feel the same way."

***DB***

"Why don't you eat some of that stew?" He asked her.

"No. I'm not hungry." She said softly.

"You are so thin, Becky." He remarked softly.

"I just can't seem to . . ." She sighed and rising began to clear away the dishes. He watched her wishing there was something he could do to ease her pain and anguish. He rose and walked to where she was working in the pantry. She stood frozen a dish in her hand, staring into space. He moved behind her wrapping his long arms around her and bending low to kiss her behind her ear. She dropped the plate and turned in his arms accepting his embrace.

"I'm sorry." She said softly. "I tried everything. I wish I knew better how to doctor someone. Maybe if I had . . ."

"Hush, now, Becca. Tweren't nothing you could do. Stop blaming yourself. I'm the one who is sorry. I've got you here on the edge of the world. If you lived near a doctor . . ."

She broke from his embrace and put a hand on his lips. "You hush, Daniel. Nothing could have helped. Both the Shawnee and the Cherokee said so. Let's not waste our lives in blame." Her bright blue eyes shimmered with tears. She rested her head against his shoulder, and he held her wishing that he could fill all her days with sunshine and joy. He thought briefly of her father; a dark shadow moving their way. He held her tighter determined that if he could not protect her from the pain and anguish of death, he would surely protect her from the added heartache her father would surely bring.


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

It was just a week later that Daniel Boone swung open the front door to a still Kentucky night and found Matt and Grace Bradley standing on their front steps.

"Well! What brings you folks out on a night like this?" He asked them.

"I've come to visit with Rebecca." Grace said smiling and squeezing the tall man's hand affectionately.

"Becky!" He turned and called into the cabin and his wife emerged. Her red hair was twisted and piled neatly on her head.

"Oh!" Grace exclaimed embracing her. "You look beautiful!"

"An improvement, I guess." Becky sighed. "I suppose you got used to seeing me laying on the floor weeping."

"Becky." Grace said softly.

"I am happy to see you Grace. I'll keep the crying to a minimum." She wiped tears from her eyes. "But I can't find words to say what a good friend you've been."

"You've done the same for me." Grace said squeezing Becky's arm.

"Well, The Lord giveth and The Lord taketh away." Becky said with a sigh.

"Blessed be the name of The Lord." Daniel finished for her with a sad smile.

"Yes." She agreed nodding at him. "And if He has to take away, at least He gave us you and Matt, Grace."

"Blessed be the name of The Lord." Daniel repeated reaching out to shake Matt's hand.

"Come in." Becky said pulling Grace inside. Daniel and Matt stood where they were listening to the two women's voices as they faded away.

"I can't say thanks enough, Matt. You looked over as if she were your own. It comforts my heart to remember that Grace was at her side."

"She does belong to us. You said during that hard winter, 'We can band together or we can die alone.' We are all one tribe."

"That's so." Daniel nodded. He studied Matt thoughtfully. "What brings you out?" He asked again.

"Well, sir, I was hoping you could take a walk with me. There's something in my barn that impacts this tribe of ours and I'm thinking you'll want to see it."

"Something or someone?" Daniel asked.

"Two someones. Mingo brought a friend with him and he's mighty determined to speak with you."

Daniel sighed and stepping off the porch said, "I am mighty determined myself, Matthew, and I got mor'n a few words for him."

***DB***

The crunch of their boots was the only sound as they made their trek to the Bradley barn. Daniel could feel Matt's eyes on him and knew his friend was full of questions.

"Maybe we should talk. Let's include Mingo though." He said as they neared the edge of Matt's property.

"You don't have to, Daniel. It ain't my business. He's Rebecca's father. It's got nothing to do with me."

"Well, that's your barn we're hiding him in, so I guess I made it your business. 'Sides, band together or die alone, ain't that so?"

"I'll fetch Mingo then. The children are with the Walkers. Go on in." He nodded to the cabin in the distance.

He paced the cabin restlessly until they entered. He could see that Grace had expected them to gather here. She'd left a plate of cookies and could smell the coffee still nestled in the coals of the fire. He turned as the door swung open and Mingo and Matt entered.

"Hello!" Mingo said cheerfully. "I picked up that package for you."

"So I hear. I hope it weren't much trouble."

"Oh, none at all. He seems resigned to his fate." Mingo bent his slender frame into a nearby chair. "Matt tells me it is story time."

"I suppose I ought to explain things. You must think me heartless and cold to treat an elder such or to keep her Pa from her." He sighed leaning on the mantle.

"You forget we've met him." Matt said. "We were here when Israel went looking for him. How that boy cried!"

"Yeah." Daniel sighed. "When it comes to Timothy Bryan, there is always crying sooner or later."

"You don't owe us any explanations." Mingo said thoughtfully.

"I suppose I'm the wrong man to criticize. It's not like my feet don't wander." He sighed. "I'm just as guilty as him when it comes to letting her down."

"That ain't so." Matt interrupted quickly. "You always come home to her. She is confident of that. She's confident of your love."

"There was a time when she felt the same toward him." He sighed. "She lived in a small village in Ireland. Her Pa and her Ma and her two sisters. Her Pa travelled - selling things and making deals along the way; making promises that he couldn't or wouldn't keep."

He glanced at the two men. "She was their last born. Her oldest sister died of the fever when Becky was six. Her father was gone." He sighed deeply. "I keep thinking if that when I think of her burying Patrick alone." He shook his head. "I'm just like him."

"Her strongest memories are if waiting; waiting for him to come home; waiting for his promises to come true. Her Ma took in washing to pay his debts and manage when he was gone but she died too. There was no family left. They couldn't find him. So Becky and her sister were sold -to cover his debts. She won't talk if those days. But she told me she stood in the docks waiting for him to come; expecting him to save her at the last minute. He never came and she spent the next seven and half years of her life a slave to his debts. She was ten years old."

"But I thought you were only bound for seven years?" Matt asked.

"Unless you are sold." Mingo answered. "They can restart your indentures when you are sold."

"Her second owner restarted them." Daniel said flatly. "He was a cruel man and she escaped at night to a nearby clinic which is where she learned so much about doctoring. When he died she fell into kind hands and eventually was sold to Cincinnatus. She owed him a little over a year but he and I worked out a deal so I could marry her."

"And from the time she was ten until two years ago when he showed up here, he never sought her out?" Matt asked.

"No." Daniel's voice grew dark and bitter. "I held my tongue for her sake. She was so . . . it was better for her to find her way to forgiveness. But now . . ." He sighed. "She's so fragile with losing Patrick. I cannot have him come here only to leave her again and shatter what's left of her poor heart."

"He says he's come for a visit and wants nothing." Mingo said with a shake of his head.

"Travel all this way?" Daniel asked. "I doubt it. He's got some secret up his sleeve. Well," He sighed and rose. "I imagine I'll sort it out soon enough." He turned and went to the door. "Maybe one of you fellas ought to tag along. I got so much anger buried up inside me now, I'm liable to do something foolish. I'm countin' on you to make sure I don't betray myself."

They said nothing but glanced at one another, and then followed him out to the barn. They had made him comfortable. He had a soft bed with a table nearby and though the late fall was cold, it was warm in the snug barn. He rose as they entered his eyes falling on his tall son-in-law. He rose slowly.

"Well, I might have known it t'would come to this sometime. I'm surprised you waited this long. I suppose it is my day of comeuppence at long last, is it not?"

"It just might be at that." Daniel responded ready to face his father-in-law at long last.


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

"Why have you come?" Daniel asked.

"Well, you aren't much for beatin' about the bush are ya?" Timothy said with a light laugh but seeing the seriousness of Daniel's expression added quickly, "I came to see my Rebecca."

"_Your_ Rebecca?"

"Aye."

"You running from debts?" Daniel asked, leaning against the stall behind him.

"What do you mean?" Timothy had sat down in the lone chair at the table.

"Precisely what I asked. Have you come here to avoid payment of debts?" Daniel's voice was gruff.

"I don't see why that would be your business."

Daniel turned away, shaking his head. He met Matt's eye and drawing a deep breath turned and faced his father-in-law again.

"It is my business. Everything about her is _my _business. She is _my_ Rebecca and has been for more years than she was ever yours." He stepped closer.

"I can see you are angry. Is that why you sent your savage after me? Why now? I've come and gone twice. You've said n'ary a word agin me. You stood up for me. _You_ did."

"I couldn't explain it if I tried. I wasn't sticking up for you. It was for her. It is always for her. She needed to . . ." He sighed and turned away. "I'm not talking to you about this. It isn't your business. It stopped being your business a long, long time ago. Tell me why you've come; the truth."

"I've come to see my daughter."

Daniel nodded his head and repeated Timothy Bryan's words. "Come to see your daughter. So you can make a pile of promises to her, and to our children and then leave again - without a word. No. Go home, Timothy."

"No?" Timothy's eyes grew wide. "I don't believe you can tell me what to do. What's more it is clear that she knows nothing of this." He threw his arm around the Bradley barn. "He dragged me here and tucked me away. Where is she? I can see her and if I remember things right she's got a mind of her own."

"That she does." Daniel agreed. "She _had_ to. There was no one to speak up for her was there?"

"Oh, I see. You've decided to make your mind up about the past. You weren't there. And her Ma . . ."

"Her Ma died of a broken heart. She died penniless. She died because she had to work night and day to pay _your_ debts; to make good on your promises."

"That's what Becky said? She were just a young lass. Her mother understood me. She knew I was a wanderer when we wed. Besides, who are you to point a finger. You are gone more than home, are ye not?"

"You left her crying; always waiting for you. You left her behind to pay your debts."

"No. I never asked her to pay for anything." Timothy said angrily waving a finger at Daniel. "That were others. It weren't my fault!"

"What are you talking about? Did you come back? Did you step in and take responsibility? She was watching for you! The whole time she was at the block listening to folks bid for her - for your debts - her eyes were searching for you to come and rescue her!"

"I did come home! But by then it was too late. There was nothing I could do!"

"Nothing you could do! You could have been there in the first place! What was so important you had to run off! Or was it just to run from your creditors! I won't have it! No, you won't set foot on my land. You need money? I can pay you." Daniel was leaning down and punched a finger in Timothy's chest. "You stay away from _my_ Rebecca, you hear. You stay away. She's suffered enough."

Timothy Bryan rose and faced Daniel squarely. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but Rebecca is my daughter and I can do as I please."

"I don't know if you noted it when you came here, but it is my name on the gates of that fort, and who comes and goes is something I can control. So, I suggest you turn yourself back around. There's nothing here for you, not anymore. And I will do whatever needs doing to make sure that she is protected, do you understand?"

"I understand you, Daniel, but," The old man hesitated and Daniel paused unsure; uncomfortable with his role. "I've come to the end of things." He said softly. "I've come here to breathe my last."

Daniel absorbed these words and Matt and Mingo looked up at him sharply.

"Ah, you've come to die beside your loving daughter. _Now, _now you need her. You didn't before. Didn't bother to come home to her or her mother; wasn't there to see Siobhan buried - Your own flesh and blood laid to rest without you - without you." Timothy had risen to stand before him with his hands outstretched in supplication, but the tall man pushed against his father-in-law, not hard, but angrily, and Timothy stepped back shocked. Mingo came and held Daniel's arm.

"Daniel." He said softly. "You don't want to do this. It isn't him you are angry with just now."

"It ain't? It sure feels that way to me. He's just using her. He didn't need her all her life long and now, when he comes to the end, now, he wants her comfort. He wants her forgiveness. He wants the family he left behind around him. It ain't right and you know it!"

"You think I'm gonna stick up for him?" Mingo asked with wide eyes, his hand still holding Daniel's arm. "You know where my loyalty lies. But she, she wouldn't want you to do this. Send him away. Leave him be, but don't harm him."

Daniel turned and gazed at Timothy who stood with one arm in front of his chest protectively, still cowering.

"I am sorry that you will spend your last days alone, but . . ." Daniel sighed. "You made that choice long ago when you chose the road over them. She's had enough of death. She's buried too many already, and I won't have you return to her just to shatter her poor heart. I took a vow to protect and her, and to love her for always. And I will do it. You failed her years ago, and I won't let you back in. Not now. Not ever. Go away or these men won't be able to prevent me from what I'll choose to do. You understand? You aren't family. You never really were."

He didn't wait for a response, but turned and stormed out of the barn into the darkness of the night without a pause in his stride until he reached the warm, glow of home.


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

Grace sat at the table across from Rebecca a coffee cup in her hand. Grace was greatly relieved because so far she had managed to keep Rebecca distracted from asking where Daniel and Matthew had gone.

"You ever drink tea?" Grace asked with wrinkled brows.

"It wouldn't be very loyal to America now, would it?" Rebecca said with a laugh. "You think I'm secretly a loyalist?"

"No. I just thought you probably had tea back in Ireland."

"I haven't seen the old country since I was a child. My mother could never afford tea." Rebecca sighed. "So, are you going to tell me now?"

"What?" Grace set her cup down.

"Where did they go? What is going on?" Rebecca asked.

"I think Matthew was having trouble with something and wanted Daniel to have a look." Grace responded vaguely.

"Grace Bradley! You are the worst liar. Now, I know I haven't been the most attentive person these last few weeks, but I'm not completely daft. What is he trying to hide from me?"

"If your husband is trying to hide something from you, then I suppose you ought to take it up with him." Grace said. "Or, you could just trust us - trust him - and leave it alone."

Rebecca sat back in her chair with her arms crossed her eyes fixed on Grace, but saying nothing.

"You've never left anything alone, have you?" Grace asked wearily.

"No. Not even once." Rebecca said with a soft smile.

"Oh! But it is good to see you smile!" Grace said reaching across the table and taking Rebecca's hand.

Tears filled Rebecca's bright, blue eyes. "I ought not to smile." She whispered. "People would talk."

"Since when does it matter to you what they say?" Grace said. "You smile. You cry. You laugh. You do whatever you need and let the talkers talk. They will no matter what you do. It is none of their business." Grace said sharply.

"I know I should be grateful for the days we were given, and oh, he was the sweetest baby!" Rebecca wiped tears from her eyes. "But I am so greedy. I wanted more." She met Grace's eyes who nodded her agreement silently.

"It isn't greed, Rebecca." Grace sighed. "This is why you should let this go, Becky. Just trust him. Leave it alone. You've enough to manage."

"And what of him?" Rebecca asked with a raised eyebrow. "Who'll manage things for him?"

"He's the great and mighty Daniel Boone!" Grace said with a wry shake of her head. "What could he possibly need help with?"

"He blames himself - that he wasn't here. He is angry. He thinks he betrayed me. He thinks he acted just like . . ." Becky sighed. "But he's the Great and Might Daniel Boone, you are right about that! He won't talk about it, or this - whatever this is. And what am I to do? What would a good wife do?"

"A good wife would hold her tongue and wait." Grace said.

"Oh, but Grace, you and I have _never_ been good wives." Rebecca's grin revealed a dimple.

"No, we never have." Grace agreed with a sigh.

***DB***

He heard Matt's footsteps behind him.

"Quit following me!" He barked out angrily. "My mind won't be changed!"

"You think _I'm_ gonna persuade you! I'd be mor'n happy to hold him down for you while you gave 'em what for!"

"Then why are you following after me?" Daniel asked, still irritated.

"My wife is at your place. You think she should walk back through this dark night alone?"

"I'm . . .I . . .I've forgot my manners, Matt. Forgive me." Daniel sighed. "Every time he shows up I get so . . ." He ran through his thick, brown hair in frustration.

"When I asked for Grace's hand, her father met me at the front door with a shotgun." Matt said. "I never could convince him I was good enough for her." He shrugged. "I don't know. I sort of agree with him. I'm not."

"Timothy Bryan didn't care enough to consider who might marry her. It ain't the same Matt. He's selfish. He thinks of himself first - never her. The way he just traipsed about wherever his heart pleased - -just expecting them to be at home waiting. It ain't the way a man should behave."

"I understand your anger. I feel the same way when I think on it, but Daniel, it isn't only him you are angry with." Matt said pointedly.

"I don't know what you mean . . ." Daniel turned from him and began to walk toward home again.

"You know exactly what I mean. What you said to him about not being there to see his flesh and blood put into the earth. It weren't him alone you were railing at." Matt tried to keep his tone calm.

"It ain't yer business." Daniel said and shaking his head continued quickly toward home and away from Matt.

***DB***

She awoke in darkness; alone. It wasn't as if either of them had been sleeping all that well, but he had returned from his visit with Matt brooding, silent; almost angry. It frightened her. The days after James' murder had been so difficult - the only time in their married life when she'd felt apart from him, and she didn't want to go through that again; couldn't bear it.

She rose, and pushing her long hair over her shoulders went out into the common area of the cabin, but he wasn't there. She stood on the porch looking out at the bright stars wondering where he could be, but then she could see his familiar outline in the distance and seeing where he stood she thought, "_Of course._"

She walked barefoot in the moonlight to the little hill where he'd put the stones. There was a beautiful oak near the rise of the hill which is where he'd put the first stone; for James. He sat with his back against the tree, and looked so lonesome and sad that she'd had to swallow down tears before sitting down beside him.

"You ought to be sleepin'." He said hoarsely.

"So should you." She said nothing but reaching out ran her hand along the familiar line of his steady jaw.

"Remember that time, you and Mingo got trapped in that cave - waiting out that band of Choctaw? She asked him after a few minutes.

"Yep." He said turning to her confused.

"And when you finally came home, I was gone to visit Vera. I'd waited and waited for you, but you were weeks late and I had promised to help her when the baby came. I felt just terrible about it. I knew that as soon as I left, you'd come home to an empty house. I hated what you would think."

"You left a note. It explained things. And I was late." He said running his hand over her back. "Becky, why are you . . ."

"I felt so guilty." She interrupted him. "Like I'd done something wrong. And I was so angry that you came back with that cut on your arm, and I wasn't there to doctor it." She shook her head. "Every time I see that scar I still feel it; the guilt of not being here."

"Oh." He said, understanding her now. He moved slightly away from her. "It ain't the same, Rebecca."

"You told me that there was no way for me to know that you'd been hurt. You told me that I ought not to feel guilty for something I had no control over." She turned and met his eyes. "What is so different about it, Dan?"

"Becca, I'm supposed to." He stopped himself feeling the anger rising. "I'm just like him. I judge him so harshly in my heart and there's no difference betwixt him and me. I am a wanderer too."

"Who?" She asked her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"I'm gone more than I should and why? To prove I'm the bigger man - that these people can't manage things without Daniel Boone to show 'em the right way." He rose and moved away from her, turning his back to her. "And what do I leave you with? This garden here!"

"Daniel," She rose and crossed to him, a gentle hand on his arm. "What happened? Why did Matt come to see you? What are you hiding from me?"

He turned and faced her then. "Timothy is here, Becky. He's come to see you, again. I thought I could . . . I wanted to protect you. You are so fragile still, Becky and I can't have him come and . . ." He swallowed hard, a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"You are _nothing_ like him. Is that what you think?" Her eyes held shock, and she stepped away from him.

"He's wanderer and I am too. I'm gone more than I'm home. He left you alone to face things without him, and I have too, Rebecca." He hung his head low. "You are just blinded by your love for me. You don't see it. I'm just like him, ah grah."

"No." She said again and he was surprised by the anger in her voice. No, Dan. He made promises that he never kept. He left without a backward glance."

She turned toward him and saw how small he looked; hunched over with shame. She stepped closer and put her hand on his arm. "Daniel you _always_ come home to me; _always_. And if you had known Patrick was sick you would never, ever have left."

"Don't . . ." He gasped out, a hand covering his eyes. "Don't make excuses for me."

"Daniel! If you had known would you have stayed away?" He said nothing and she repeated. "Would you have left me to bury him alone if you had known? Answer me, Dan!"

"No." He said in a whisper. "Never."

"That's why you aren't like him. He would. A friend of my mother's found him and told him about Siobhan and he told him that we were better off without him and that he couldn't face it - it would be too painful. He knew she was gone and chose to stay away." She moved closer so that she leaned against his long body. "You are nothing like him. You have never hurt me the way he did. Never."

"But I wasn't here." He gasped out feeling ashamed as tears fell from his green eyes.

"But you are here now." She whispered. "And even when you are far away I still feel you. Ta mo grah chroi istigh ionat. You are here, Dan; always."

"I wish I could've held him one more time. I wish . . ." He accepted her embrace at last burying his face in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him tightly, kissing him.

"I am so sorry for that, mo chroi. I can't say how sorry I am! But he knew how much you loved him. He knew his Pa loved him more than anything."

He was incapable of any words, so overwhelmed by her loving forgiveness. He'd been so frightened. Looking at Timothy Bryan felt like looking into a looking glass and he did not like what he saw reflected there. He thought of all the times when he'd made the choice to stay a few days longer - never really frightened that she wouldn't be there when he finally did wander back. He understood all too well, her father's longing to roam far and wide. She was correct there were differences between the two of them. He would never make some of the choices that her father had. He would never choose the road over her as Timothy had. She had told them of the words she'd overheard between her parents the last time he'd left - how her mother had begged him to stay. If Rebecca asked him, he would never leave again - he supposed that what amazed and wounded him most - she never would ask him to stay - even if it was the very thing she wanted most. Her devotion simultaneously strengthened and shattered him. She trusted him to never betray her - even though she'd been betrayed by her own father.

He lifted his head and holding onto her shoulders met her beautiful eyes, his own still clouded by tears, "'Becca, I don't love nothing on this wide world 'cept you. I don't care 'bout nothing else. They can burn that fort to the ground and erase my name from all them books. I won't never leave you alone like that. I won't. I'll be a farmer if you want."

She laughed out loud, and reaching out put her hands on either side of his face, "Daniel! I love you with all my heart, but you are the worst farmer the world has ever seen!" She leaned in and kissed him. "You are the long-hunter. I know this." She smiled up into his face. "But you are _my_ long-hunter, and when the hunt is over you come home to me; always."

"Go deo." He said. "You are in my heart forever."

"I am." She said smiling at him, and wrapping her arms around him, pulling him toward her again for another kiss. "And you are in mine."


	11. Chapter 11

Israel had learned long ago, that when his parents were worried or upset, they didn't pay close attention to the things he did or ate. He felt guilty about taking advantage of his mother's sorrow, but he also loved sneaking cookies. They hadn't even noticed that all of the cookies were gone. They hadn't noticed when he'd skipped his lessons and gone fishing and they hadn't noticed when he'd followed his father to Mr. Bradley's barn.

He loved his grandfather. He told the most exciting stories. He could sit and listen for hours and hours. But his grandfather brought him worry too. You never knew if he would decide to leave. He might say he'd take you to meet a river fairy in the morning only to have disappeared in the night. He understood that this caused his mother sadness. Last time, he'd been so sad to discover his grandfather had left without saying goodbye - he'd cried himself to sleep. But maybe, maybe this time he could convince him to stay.

He had to wait until there was no one else around. He'd heard his father taking but hadn't been close enough to understand the words. The tone, however, had been infinitely clear. Israel could recognize the sound of anger in his father's voice.

He snuck in the barn and turning to corner almost ran smack into his grandfather.

"Israel! Oh, lad you've grown some!" He hugged the boy to him.

"Grandpa!" Israel laughed. "Why are you here? You should stay with us!"

"Your Pa doesn't quite feel the same as you." He smiled at the boy. "Beside, why would I stay anywhere else? This is a lovely spot."

"Grandpa!" Israel laughed. "Come on! I'll take you fishin'!"

"I don't think I'm allowed to leave."

"Allowed? They got you locked up in here?" Israel's blue eyes grew wide.

"Well, your Pa's mad at me."

"What'd ya do?"

"Nothing and I suppose that's the problem."

"That ain't right!"

"We'll, Israel, maybe you can help your Grandpa get back in your Pa's good graces." He smiled at his grandson. "You up for an adventure?"

***DB***

It was against his best judgment, but he had learned long, long ago that Rebecca was stubborn and not to be deterred when her mind had been made up. She was determined to see her father and he recognized that there was no possible way to stop her, so the least he could do was go with her and be there for whatever fallout came their way.

He pushed open the door to the barn and peered into the darkness, but saw quickly that there was no one there. He shook his head, and moved inside to be sure that Patrick wasn't crouched in some corner, but a quick look around confirmed his worst fears. Patrick was gone.

Muttering a curse that he hoped Rebecca didn't hear, he turned to her and said, "I'm sorry, darlin'. This is probably my fault. I sent him off."

"Don't apologize, Dan. I understand what you were trying to do and besides he's a Bryan. Have you ever known a Bryan to do something _just_ because they were told to?" She sighed. "It would've been nice to . . ." She shook herself. "I'm fine, ah grah. Don't start fussing. Come on, it is getting late and we best get Israel tucked into bed. He'll run wild if we let him."

He held tightly to her hand all the way back to the cabin, and kept stealing glances to see if she were upset, but she seemed fine. She paused just at the edge of their land and stopping, faced him.

"I see you worrying like a hen, Daniel. I am fine. I had no expectation of seeing him. He is what he is - I know that. I don't set my heart on him any more." She kissed him.

"Good." He sighed. "I thought I was being helpful to you when he came that first time. I thought it would help you if you made peace with him, but then he left so quickly I wasn't sure. It seemed that I talked you into letting him break your heart again."

"It was good. All that anger wasn't doing me any good. Sometimes it is important to face the past so we can be free of it. You were right to do that for me. And I think I am free of it. I feel the sting of the hurt still, but I set my heart on you - not him."

"Well, that's a lot to lay on a man's shoulders." He said with a nervous grin. "I aim to do right by you Becky. I do."

"And you do." She smiled at him, and taking him by the hand led him up the steps to their cabin.

"Is Israel with you?" Jemima asked almost immediately. "I couldn't find him anywhere! He was no help at all! I had to milk the cow. She was lowing something awful."

"What do you mean you couldn't find him?" Becky asked her brows wrinkled in concern.

"He disappeared ages ago."

"Dan," Becky began, a fear settling over her. "He didn't know, did he?"

"No. The only ones who knew were Matt, Grace, and Mingo. He couldn't have . . ." He turned and reached for Tick Licker. "Listen, darlin', I'll just take a look around. He's probably out and about. You know how that boy loves to explore. Don't fret, ah grah. I'll have him home in a snap."

"Dan, if he . . ."

"Don't borrow worries, love. You get too fretful go on and visit with Grace. 'Mima you keep an eye on your Ma now."

"Yes, sir." Mima said softly.

"I'll be back right quick, Becky. Eat some supper. You're skinny enough to disappear altogether, but save some for Israel. You know how that boy likes to eat." He grinned at her and with a quick kiss he disappeared out the cabin door.

"Ma?" Mima asked from where she stood, but Becky didn't respond. "Ma?"

But her mother stood rooted where she was, watching Daniel turn into a small dot in the far distance as she prayed for her last remaining son to return safely to her.


	12. Chapter 12

**TWELVE**

Rebecca Boone paced anxiously. She had tried to remain calm - after all, Israel loved to wander off - loved to explore just like his father. It wasn't unusual for him to disappear, but he always returned as darkness fell. She lifted the curtain and peered out into the darkness, sighing. The bright stars winked in the sky, mocking her. She couldn't manage another loss; not now.

"Ma?" Mima asked tentatively, her hand on her mother's elbow. "The coffee is hot. I poured you a cup."

Rebecca gazed into the darkness for a beat longer, and then turned to her daughter, a hand on her smooth cheek. "Thank you, Mima. You are the sweetest girl. I don't know how I'd manage without you." She kissed her daughter's forehead, and turned to sit where a cup coffee sat steaming and waiting for her. Her Bible lay open next to the cup.

"I thought you'd want to read." Mima said softly sitting beside her mother.

"I don't know if . . ."

"Please, Ma. I always feel better when you read it to me. Read me the story about the big fish. I like that one." Jemima smiled up at her and setting the cup down, she lifted the Book and began to read.

It was just as the sailors had thrown Jonah over to save themselves, that the door swung open and Israel stood grinning in the doorway.

"Israel!" She shouted and ran to him, wrapping arms around him as tears fell. "Where have you been young man?"

"Ma! Ma! You are squashing me!" Israel complained. "I was waiting."

"Waiting? Waiting for what? Israel Boone, you better have a good reason! You worried me to death and your Pa is out looking with half the men of the fort!"

"I know." Israel said calmly. "That's what we were waiting for; everyone to leave."

"What?" She asked confused. "Israel why would you want everyone to . . ." She glanced out the open door into the darkness. "We? What do you mean we?" A sense of dread fell over her. "Israel, who is with you?"

"Grandpa!" Israel said and with a cheerful grin, stepped out of the open door and gestured with his right arm. He peered out into the darkness. "Oh, come on in. Pa's not home."

Rebecca felt an anger rising as she peered into the darkness, and saw her father sheepishly step into the room.

"Becky, love. I've come for a visit!" He said removing his hat and smiling at her. "I've missed you, lass."

She stood frozen, her breath steady, her blue eyes fierce. At last she spoke, surprised that the sound of her voice carried no evidence of the rage she felt. "Mima, would you take Israel to the fort. Please tell Cincinnatus that Israel is home safe. Maybe there's someone left who can get word to the search parties."

"Yes, Ma." Jemima said quietly, reaching for her brother's hand. Israel, who showed good sense for once, said nothing and simply accepted his sisters outstretched hand.

"Mima, go to Aunt Grace's house afterwards. Don't come home." Becky said with a nod at her daughter.

"Yes, ma'am." Mima gave a nod and the two children left, leaving a gaping silence in the small cabin.

"I know that look, ah grah." Her father said, stepping fully into the cabin and closing the door behind him. "Your sweet Ma used to get that same look in her eye when I'd been gone too long." He shifted his feet nervously.

Rebecca glared at him saying nothing.

"I didn't have a choice, a peata. Your husband wasn't too cheered to see me. I had to do _something_ to distract him. I wanted only to see your face again, lass."

Sighing, Rebecca stepped away from her father and turned to face the bright fire. Shaking her head, she turned again to face him. "Da, there's nothing . . ." She swallowed hard and taking a deep calming breath. "You need to leave, now."

"He won't be back for hours, darlin'. That's why we waited so long. I wanted to make sure he was far from here. You might not think it, ah grah, but that man is pretty imposing when he wants to be." He grinned at her, hoping his charm would sway her.

"No. You need to leave because _I've_ asked you to go. I am too angry to speak to you just now, and I don't want to, either." She turned and sat on the settee that sat to the right of the fire.

"Becky? I travelled all this way just to see you again! I know hiding Israel away wasn't the best choice, but what was I to do? Your husband was keeping me from you!"

"My husband was protecting me, or trying to. He knows you well, Da. You may have come to see me, but it is with open hands, ready to take. Isn't it?"

"I don't know . . ."

"You best leave, now. No good will come of us talking just now. I may have an Irish temper, but I've got a clear Irish mind, too. It is best we not speak while I feel such an anger toward you. I don't want to cause you hurt - no matter what you've done to me." She lifted a hand and rubbed her face.

"What I've done to you? What have I done?" He held his palms out to her in question. "I never struck you. I never punished you like most Da's. I brought you gifts and dolls whenever I could. I travelled many a mile to provide for you!"

Rebecca hesitated, flood with memories; memories filled with longing and disappointment. She sighed sadly and said calmly, "Please Da, just go."

"I came to see you because I'm at the end, Becky. There aren't many days left." He held his hands out-stretched to her in supplication.

She lifted a hand to her forehead and bit her lower lip in frustration. "I won't ask you again. Go." She turned and disappeared behind the curtain that seperated her bedroom from the common room of the cabin.

Timothy Patrick Bryan stood for a long moment, lost and confused. The silence crowded around him and the walls of the cabin seemed to close in on him. He felt unsure and uncomfortable. And so he did what he'd always done when things got too difficult; Timothy Patrick Bryan left.

***DB***

He found her in the garden in a pool of moonlight starring up at the bright stars.

"'Becca?" He said softly stepping near where she stood her hands on the low fence the two of them had put around the garden.

"He's safe." She said quickly. "I sent them . . ."

"I saw him, a chumann. I stopped by the Bradley cabin. Grace says they can sleep there and for you not to worry over it."

She turned from him, looking out into the darkness. Her feet were bare and her fell to her waist, loose and wavy. Her skin shown pearly in the moonlight. Grief had made her thin, but he was stunned by her beauty.

"Darlin'?" He stepped close enough to reach out and touch her, but she didn't turn to face him.

"He took Israel with him so you'd leave and he could come here." She said with a soft, sad sigh. "I'm sorry, Dan."

"Sorry? Darlin' no. You don't apologize for him; not ever." He was conflicted as equal measures of rage toward her father and loving compassion for her washed over him. He rubbed hand over his face. "What do you want me to do, ah grah? I'll do anything you ask."

She turned to face him then. Her blue eyes bright with tears that shimmered in the moonlight. She smiled sadly at him and lifting a hand, rubbed his cheek softly. "I know you will." She rested her head against his chest surrendering herself to his arms, and her tears. "I swore I would never shed another tear for him or his promises. . ." She looked up into Daniel's face. "I sent him away. _I_ did. But he is my father. I don't know what to think."

"This is _my_ fault. I'm the one who brought him to you in the first place. I'm so sorry, Rebecca. I would _never, ever_ bring you this pain. I'm so sorry." He held her tightly to him.

"No. You don't apologize either. It was good, Dan. It did bring me peace. This . . ." She sighed and turning her face up to him said. "_This_ belongs to him." She rested against his chest and they stood together, silent in the moonlight for a long time. At last she said, "He says he's dying. Did he tell you that?"

"He did." He answered softly.

"I'm not sure what I should do." She confessed.

"I think you should sleep." She looked up at him and he grinned at her. "It is late already, and you've not slept well lately. Your father will still be your father when the sun rises."

"And you will sleep too." She said firmly.

"Well, I was going to . . ."

"No." She cut him off. "You are very good at protecting me, but Dan, this we manage together. Tomorrow _we_ will find him."

"I don't know if I will be able to manage my temper, darlin'."

"I know I won't be able to manage mine." She laughed and taking him by the hand said, "Come on. Let's go inside."

He wrapped a long arm around her and they went inside the warm cabin together. He paused on the porch a moment longer than her, staring off into the darkness and wondering just where Patrick's wandering feet had led him this time. He half-hoped that they had led him away for good.


	13. Chapter 13

He had nothing left. He understood it - why he was here now. He understood the choices he had made long ago had led him here. He was at the end and he was alone. Patrick Bryan sat down where he was - somewhere in the middle of the Kentucky wilderness alone and bereft. He hadn't expected their anger - well, he knew his son-in-law always kept a wary eye on him - especially after he had left without saying goodbye _again_. He felt somewhat anxious around the tall man his youngest daughter had married. He had the feeling that given the right circumstances, Daniel wouldn't hesitate to crush him. He lay back on the ground and looked up into the starry sky understanding that there was nothing he could do to set things right. He couldn't go back in time. He knew deep in his heart he had failed her, and Susannah, her sister. He left them to pay for his mistakes. The fact that Rebecca had landed on her feet had made it easier for him to sleep at night, but it didn't change that his failure to return and own up to his debts had left her and Susannah faced with seven years of slavery. He was no use to them back then and he was no use to them today.

He must have fallen asleep because when he opened his eyes again it was early dawn. It was cold and grey and he shivered. He looked up and turned to rise and was terrified to find a face staring into his. He scrambled backwards.

"No need to fear." The terrifying-looking Brave said to him.

"I have no rifle." He said with his hands outstretched.

"I can see that." The Indian laughed. "I am Running Creek. Why are you alone? Where are your people? The settlement is back that way."

"You speak English better than most folks." Patrick remarked surprised.

"I live nearby the English. Why should I not?" Running Creek said. "If you are lost, I can lead you back."

"I am not lost." Patrick said. Running Creek studied the older man thoughtfully.

"I will take you to my father. Come. Follow me."

"Who is your father?" Patrick said, rising slowly and following.

"You shall see." He said with a smile and led Patrick deep into the darkness of the forest.

***DB***

Rebecca Boone sat on the edge of her bed staring at her hands in her lap. Daniel stood in front of her waiting, silently.

"So, he never went back to the settlement?" She said quietly.

"No."

"He might have just left." She sighed. "He probably just left. That's what he does - especially when things get troublesome."

"He does do that." He sat beside her.

"Or he could be in trouble. I saw him go. It wasn't toward the settlement. He went out straight toward the river, I think. There are no settlements out that way. He could easily have stumbled into the wrong tribe. He could be in trouble." She sighed again and rested her head on his shoulder.

"He could be." Daniel said resting his chin on the top of her head. "Or he could be just fine. One thing you can say 'bout Timothy Patrick Bryan is that seems to land on his feet."

"He does that." She agreed.

He kissed her forehead rising, and paced across the room. He paused at the wall across from her, and studied her thoughtfully. She had been just sixteen when he'd married her. It seemed like a lifetime ago and just ten minutes ago, too.

"You still have those breeches?" He asked her.

"What?" She looked up at him surprised.

"Those ones you made when you used to go out hunting with me? Remember?"

She laughed out loud. "Daniel that was nearly seventeen years ago! I don't believe they'd fit me now!"

"Why not?" He raised his eyebrows.

She blushed and said reprovingly, "Daniel Boone." He grinned at her, and she shook her head at him. "Why would I need breeches anyway?"

"Well, you can go looking for your father wearing one of your dresses, but I reckon it'd be a mite easier if you were wearing breeches."

"Dan . . ." She began haltingly. "You don't have to . . ."

"I'll do whatever you want, love, but I've known you a long time now, Rebecca, and you won't be able to sleep if you don't know what happened to him."

"The children . . ."

"Matt and Grace will take them. I already spoke with Matt this afternoon. I reckon it'll take you a day to get everything in order. We'll leave day after?"

***DB***

He had found if he kept quiet and watched, he would find a way to work things his direction. He had yet to find someone he couldn't charm - except for Maggie. And Rebecca. Running Creek and his father talked in quiet voices and he watched them cautiously. He watched as the older man beckoned him near.

"Sit." He said, gesturing to the space to his left. "You are from the settlement?"

"Not there precisely. I'm a bit of a wanderer." Patrick said.

"My son says you are not well."

"Really? I was just a wee bit tired when I saw him."

The old man leaned in close, studying Patrick's eyes. Patrick started to scoot back and away, but the old man gripped his wrist, and taking both of Patrick's hands. He studied his palms and then released him. He sat back on his heels and looking straight into Patrick's bright blue eyes, asked, "Where is your woman?"

"What?"

"You have not many days left. Where is your woman?"

"She died." Patrick said softly. "Long ago."

"Your people, then?"

"I don't. . ." Patrick struggled. "I have no people."

The old man glanced at his son, and waved him away with a flick of his hand, and Running Creek left them alone.

"Your words are twisted." The old man said. "There are people."

"There are." His response was barely a whisper.

"There is no time to run now." Patrick was unable to look away from the dark, wise eyes that held him in a steady gaze. "It is easy to run."

"Aye, it is." He whispered. "My feet - they long to go."

"This time, your feet must lead you home."

Patrick sat silent, his head bent. He tried to a think of quick way to dance himself away from this conversation. He was always good at keeping things from getting too serious. He could always manage to find his way out of anything - although many, many times it took sneaking off on his own two legs. But he was tired. He wasn't sure his legs could run fast enough or far enough to escape this. He sighed and looking up said, "But I destroyed my home long, long ago."

The old man's face widened into a smile and reaching out to grip Patrick's arm he answered, "Ah, then! You must rebuild."


	14. Chapter 14

Running Creek was running. His friends used to tease him when he was younger and chant that at him, whenever he ran. They found it unendingly funny. It flashed through his mind now as he ran toward the settlement. His father had told him to find the tall man known by many as Shelltowe. He had met Daniel Boone several times as he was unafraid to travel near the settlement. The man had been fair and kind. He hoped that he would be able to explain things to him. He was usually confident in his ability to use the settlers' words, but sometimes he wondered if he put things correctly.

The old man had seem tired and lost, but his father's words seemed to have strengthened his heart. Running Creek understood that the old man would not have moons and moons left to set things right, and that was why he was running.

***DB***

Daniel glanced back over his shoulder and smiled at the sight of Rebecca; she strode toward him easily on graceful, long legs. Seeing he was watching her she smiled and winked at him.

"You need a rest?" She asked teasing.

"I can mange." He replied and turning continued forward.

They had found signs of him near the river. He'd left behind a handkerchief. Rebecca had held the white lace delicately in her fingers. She studied it closely and a soft look covered her features. She pointed to the small stitches in the corner which revealed two letters: MB.

"This was my mother's." She told him softly, her voice full of wonder. "I thought we'd lost all of her belongings." She looked up at him with bright blue eyes.

"That's a real treasure then, ah grah. He must've kept it." She nodded.

He knelt in the dirt near the river's edge, studying the ground. He was thankful that there had been no rain. He looked up at her.

"He's not alone. Someone met him and they headed thataway." He pointed his long arm.

She looked into the distance. "That's Shawnee territory, isn't it?"

"Yup." He nodded, rising and wiping the dirt from his hands. "Don't take this the wrong way, darling, but your Pa has a knack for finding trouble."

"He does at that." She agreed with a light, but nervous laugh. Daniel saw her fear and reached out to squeeze her shoulder.

"Don't worry, ah chumann. One thing I've come to believe in is Irish charm and Irish luck." He kissed her cheek. "You manage a few more miles?"

She nodded saying nothing and with a nod at her, he continued forward. They walked for another couple of hours. He glanced at the sky, and seeing that it was late in the afternoon, was just turning to her to suggest they find a place to camp for the night, when something in the distance caught his eye. His senses sharpened in intensity and without a word reached out behind him, searching for her fingers. She clasped his hand and he pulled her close enough so that he could whisper in her ear.

"Get ready, love. Someone is coming." He nodded at nearby bush and she immediately crouched behind it - expertly lifting her rifle; ready for whatever came their way. Satisfied she was safe and prepared he moved across from her and tucked himself behind a tree; Tick-Licker braced against his shoulder.

The silence of the forest seemed to fill his ears, but in the distance he could hear it; feet. Someone was running toward them. She saw him first and whispered fiercely to him, "Just one man."

"Aye, darlin'. Wait." He whispered back. He didn't recognize Running Creek at first. It had been nearly a year since he'd last seen him, and the young brave had grown into a man. He relaxed at last, as recognition dawned and stepped out from his hiding place.

"Running Creek!" He called out cheerfully. "How you grow'd!"

"It is Sheltowee himself!" Running Creek slowed his pace, meeting the tall man in the middle of the wilderness. "I was coming to find you! This is a lucky turn!"

"Coming to see me? What fer?" Daniel asked glancing over his shoulder where Rebecca remained hidden.

"We found someone. Have you lost one of your people?" Running Creek.

"Indeed we have!" Daniel said with a laugh. "He is the father of my woman."

"Ah! This he did not tell us! He is unharmed. I left him with my father. I shall bring you to him." Running Creek turned ready to go at once, but Daniel caught his arm.

"Wait, Running Creek. I am not alone." He told the young brave.

"You have the Cherokee with you?" Running Creek spit out the word "Cherokee" as though it was something that tasted bitter.

"Uh, no. A friend even more steady than Mingo." Daniel said with a grin. He turned to where she was still hiding. "Darlin', someone wants to meet you."

Running Creek's eyes grew wide with surprise, as Rebecca rose and walked to Daniel. She was dressed in buckskins, her hair in a single, long braid that fell to her waist.

"This is a woman!" Running Creek said with shock.

"This is _my_ woman." Daniel explained wrapping a long arm around Rebecca. "Rebecca, this is Running Creek."

"I am glad to meet you." She said with a smile.

"But she has a gun!" Running Creek said. "And she is dressed as . . . she is a soldier?"

"Not every day." Daniel said with a laugh. "And as to the gun, you'd be mighty thankful she had it if you need someone to back you in a fight. She shoots better than me."

"You found my father?" She asked impatiently. "He is well?"

Running Creek exchanged a look with Daniel and said hesitantly, "He is not in any danger just now. I found him near the river and brought him to my father. Come, I will lead you there." He turned back the way he had come, but stopped suddenly. "It is far. Can your woman walk a ways yet?"

Daniel laughed. "I would _love _ to see you try and stop her." Running Creek nodded at the two of them, and Daniel reached for Rebecca's hand, and together they headed deeper into the wilderness and he silently prayed that this would be his father-in-law's last attempt to run.

***DB***

He wandered around the small Shawnee encampment, and no one seemed bothered by it. For the first time in his life, he was quiet. He didn't try and spin a tale or impress anyone. He simply followed along. He took whatever food they offered, listened as they talked, and slept when they did. The last time he had been this close to contentment, had been in the first days after he had married Maggie, but even then, a desire to run off nagged at the back of his brain. Now, he felt no such longing. Perhaps he had finally become too tired to run anymore. Perhaps it was because he knew his heart had not many days left, or maybe it was because this last and what seemed to be, final rejection had beaten all the fight out of him. He wasn't sure. He just knew that he no longer was plagued with a strong desire to run.

He spent the afternoon and evenings talking to the old man. They didn't speak about his troubles again, instead the old man told him many of the old stories of the tribe - how the gods had painted the sky, how the eagle lost her voice, why the fox could never be trusted. He listened. He didn't tell a single story.

It was on his third afternoon there, that the old man had paused in his story and looking intently at Patrick said, "Your day has come." At first, Patrick expected to drop dead there on the spot - thinking the old man possessed some kind of ancient magic and could tell when his heart would finally beat its last.

"I don't . . ." Patrick began to question the wise, old man.

"They will be here when the moon rises. You must prepare your heart. It has grown weak with fear and . . ." The old man hesitated, and later, Patrick would remember the kindness of this pause. "and with shame, but there will be no more running."

"How can you know these things? How can you know what I will do? I don't know myself!" Patrick responded.

"Ah, the winds whisper to me of their coming. As for you, if you meant to run, you would have already. You are no fool. You know I sent my son to find him. You are a man who is waiting."

"He won't be happy with me."

"No, but you aren't happy with yourself either, so it will only be like looking in calm waters. It is yourself you will see." The old man rose slowly. "And it is not him, you fear."

Patrick looked up in surprise. _I've stumbled into a dream where fairies posses the magic to see into the future and into my heart._ He thought to himself.

"No." The old man said. "It is not her you fear either - although she is coming too." He leaned heavily on an old gnarled stick. "It is your reflection you fear most of all." He smiled benevolently at Patrick. "But within this painful vision is your salvation." And Patrick found himself alone at the fire, as the sun began to fade, awaiting his heart's true reckoning.

The chill in the air, and the change of light all around him told him that hours had passed, but it seemed that it was just seconds later that he found himself rising slowly and facing the daughter he had neglected and abandoned so very long ago.


	15. Chapter 15

The stars shone brightly above them in an expansive Kentucky sky. It was a beautifully clear night and Rebecca had no doubt that on any other night she and Daniel would be gazing up at the bright sky together on their porch. Of course, stargazing usually led to sparkin'. "There's just something about the sparkle of a clear sky that reminds me of you, and when I think of you I can't help but kiss you." Was how Daniel explained how a clear night sky usually led to kissing. It made her smile to even think of it.

"What?" He asked, seeing her smile. "What are you thinking of?"

"That's a bright clear sky above us." She said blushing as she grinned at him.

He shook his head at her, utterly surprised. "Rebecca Anne." He admonished quietly.

"It's just over that rise." Running Creek said, turning to look back at them.

Rebecca's smile disappeared and she hesitated, a knot growing in her stomach.

"Darlin?" Daniel asked, reaching for her hand.

"It's fine." She said trying to convince herself as much as him.

She wasn't sure what was going to happen. She felt strong emotions whenever she thought of her father. She was conflicted with equal measures of pity, anger, compassion and fear. When Daniel had first brought him home she'd been overwhelmed with rage; that he would show up expecting to pick things up where they'd left off. He behaved as though none of the terrible years between his leaving and his return had never happened. Daniel had been infinitely patient with her. He didn't tell her what to do or think - didn't even try to talk her down from her rage. He waited. And she'd made her way back around to peace with Timothy Patrick Bryan. It had not been easy, but somehow she had found a way to accept him as he was, and then he was gone again. She hadn't had a chance to say goodbye - he'd robbed her of that, yet again. Although his departure had hurt, it hadn't devastated her as it had in the past. She wasn't sure if it was because her attitude toward him had changed, or if it was because Daniel stood beside her an arm around her as she read her father's note.

But even softened by time, Timothy Patrick Bryan was still Timothy Patrick Bryan. When next he visited he returned to his old ways, spinning tales, making promises he couldn't keep and eventually disappearing. Israel had believed him; believed every single word. He waited all day for his grandfather to take him fishing as he had promised. When darkness fell, broken-hearted, Israel had wandered off. It had been nearly midnight when Daniel had found him, alone and sobbing. Israel's inheritance of her pain had been unbearable. To see in her young son's eyes the familiar heartbreak of a promise not kept shattered her.

She was a capable frontier woman who had once protected her husband from a cougar - felling it in one perfect shot as it leapt through the air. She had traveled alone to the new world, endured seven and half years enslaved to others to pay off her father's debts. She had built a cabin, raised a barn, built a fort, made a life between two warring tribes. She was an efficient housewife, incredible cook, stern and loving mother, faithful wife who could manage weeks alone in the wilderness while her husband was away hunting. And yet, the second she stepped in front of her father she became an insecure ten year old girl longing to be good enough and pretty enough for him to stay. She hated feeling weak. She hated feeling helpless. She hated the person she became around him - wavering between anger and the deepest fears she'd ever experienced.

And now it was her last chance.

She felt so fragile and raw since they had laid Patrick to rest. Her arms ached to hold his tiny body in her arms, and often she awoke during the night thinking she had heard his cry. She wasn't sure she could face her father now. But now was the only time she had. _If_ what he said was true, and that was always a very big if - if what he said was true, she wouldn't have another chance. Now was all they had. She held tighter to Daniel's hand so grateful that she would not face this hardship alone. She swallowed hard as she was led to the small encampment. It was late so no one was out - everyone tucked away in their tents for the night. A lone figure greeted them.

"This is my father." Running Creek said as the older man approached them.

Daniel smiled and reaching out shook the old man's hand. "Dark Moon! I am pleased to see you well."

"And I you." The old man's smile was deep and genuine. "And this is your woman?"

"Yes, this is my Becky. Darlin' this is Dark Moon. He was one of the first of the Shawnee to decide not to try and kill me." Daniel said with a laugh.

"I am grateful for that." Rebecca said with a nervous laugh. She felt a rising anxiety. Her heart pounded in her ears.

"You found a steady and kind man." Dark Moon said taking her hand in his. "You need not fear him, now. Your heart is safe."

"I . . . I . . . don't know about that." She said honestly, her blue eyes filling with tears. "He has such a power over me even still."

"He is your father and that is as it should be." Dark Moon said gently. "But it is time to see he is just a man - like any other. His weaknesses are his own."

She nodded her head trying to absorb the old man's words.

"He is over there." Dark Moon gestured to the distance where a lone figure sat at a fire. Dark Moon turned to Daniel. "That shelter is for you and your woman." He pointed to a lone tent in the distance. "Our home is yours."

"Thank you, Dark Moon. We appreciate your looking after him."

"We are all the same tribe." Dark Moon said. "You know he has not many days left?"

"He had told me so." Daniel said rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It is never easy to trust his words."

"He is used to speaking twisted." Dark Moon nodded. He turned to Rebecca. "You have no need to fear. You are as strong as any warrior."

"Truer words ain't never been spoke." Daniel agreed.

"Your father is just a man." Dark Moon said, a hand on her arm. "And you are the one with all the power now. He waits for _you_."

Biting her lip, Rebecca nodded, and turning from him, cut the distance between herself and her father; ready to face him at long last.

Daniel nodded at Dark Moon who followed his son Running Creek into his tent leaving the Boones alone.

He sat hunched on a stump beside the glowing fire. He did not look up at her; his head bent low, his shoulders rolled inward. He looked small. He looked old. He looked afraid. She found herself moving quickly toward him, and knelt before him.

"Da?" She said softly.

He kept his head down and said nothing. She glanced at Daniel who said nothing; simply waiting a half-step behind her, one hand on her shoulder.

"Da. You should come home with us. There's no reason for you to be all alone. I am sorry I spoke so sharply to you. I just . . .I was worried about Israel, and things have been . . .I was afraid to speak to you while I was so upset. I didn't mean to send you away forever. Please, Da. Please come home with us."

"I . . . I . . . I can't." His voice was a whisper.

"You can. Please, no matter what else has happened, we are family. You need not wander this dark wilderness. It is time to rest your feet at long last." She rested her hands lightly on his knees.

"I can't."

"Da, aren't you tired of it? Aren't you lonesome? Please, come home."

"But he is angry." He looked up at her at last and nodded his head toward Daniel.

"Aye, he is." She said. "So am I, Da. But we can manage that together. We are family. You don't want to be alone." He met her eyes then and she continued seriously. "It is difficult to manage life alone."

He turned away from her, a hand covering his eyes, ashamed. He rose and stepped to the edge of the fire.

"Ah, Becky! I've been a fool! My feet always running - running away from everything that . . .I couldn't stay at home and face things. I couldn't face your mother! I couldn't face you! Why? Why did she marry me? She knew I'd break her heart! She knew I'd never stay!"

"I don't know." Becky's voice was a whisper, lost in memories of her mother. "But she loved you, Da. In spite of everything, she really did love you."

"But she was too good for me." He said. He glanced at Daniel who stood beside her, an arm protectively around her. "You are too good for me, too. Why would you let her come to me? Why?"

"Because it is what she needs." Daniel said flatly.

"But you must hate me so. I am not the father she needs. I will fail her."

"You have failed her." Daniel agreed. "More'n once." He sighed thoughtfully and squeezed Rebecca's shoulder. "So have I. It's what you do after you fail that matters most. Some folks run - too ashamed, too prideful, too weak to admit their mistakes. But I always have believed that a real man faces trouble head on and does what he can to fix it - to make things right."

"I can't make anything right." Timothy said his brows raised in confusion. He looked down too ashamed to meet their eyes.

"No, you can't." Rebecca said softly. "You've no power to travel backwards through time and change what has happened. You left us. You left us alone. She died without you. Susannah and I paid off your debts. All of those things happened. You can't charm your way out of that. You've no magic powers. You are just a man."

"Aye and a poor one at that." He replied.

"All of that is the past, Da." She took a step closer to him, moving out of the protective circle of Daniel's arms, and yet she could feel him still - waiting; silent, patient, supportive. "The past can't be undone. There is only now." She drew herself up to her full height, her shoulders back, and was amazed to find a peace settle over her. "Now, you have to choose. You can run or you can come home. It is your choice. It has always been your choice. But even if you fail me again, you can take comfort that I am well. Either way, Da, I am safe. Whether you come out of these woods," She gestured to the trees that surrounded them. "or stay forever moving - that is your choice. Just as how, I live my life - how I choose to feel about your choices is mine." She ran her hand over his cheek and with a nod at Daniel walked away, disappearing inside the shelter that had been prepared for them.

Daniel watched Rebecca go - stunned at her composure; her kindness and generosity to her father; overwhelmed with the beauty that shone from within her brighter than any sky filled with stars.

"I don't understand . . ." Timothy said to him, his voice thick with emotion. "Why would she . . .I don't know what to do."

"You aren't confused, Tim. You are afraid." He sat down on the log that lay near the fire. "I fought in many battles and I've learned fear can make a man do the strangest things. There's no predicting it either - who will flee and who will rise up with courage." He glanced at his father-in-law again, and rising repeated, "You know what to do." He turned to go to Rebecca but paused and with a look over his shoulder said in an icy voice, "And the hounds of hell themselves will come chasing after you if you choose to break her heart again. I swear it, Tim. You've wasted all your chances. She is infinitely forgiving - I know it all to well. But I am not. It isn't the same for me. You aren't my father and I'm not confused like she is - I understand you are just a man. And I swore a vow to love and protect her for all my days - even if that means I have to protect her from the likes of you. Do not fail her this time. If you do it is you who will be destroyed."


	16. Chapter 16

Timothy Patrick Bryan was alone. He stayed where he was and sat at the fire staring at the flames. He felt strangely numb. His son-in-law's words rang in his ears. _You are afraid_. How could he know that? He tried to reason with himself.

_Come on, then, Timmy, lad. You don't need to be afraid of a wee lass like Rebecca. She's just a girl! You don't need to go running just because she's called you home! _

He shook his head trying to convince himself that he was shaking with cold and nothing else.

_You've not many days left. How do you want it to end?_

He tried to turn his thoughts away from the truth. He was sick that is what the confounded doctors had said. And he had almost immediately walked out the door - running even from them.

_Have you got family?_

That's what the doctors had asked him, but he'd shook his head and shrugged his shoulders - pretending not to care - pretending even to himself that he was just wandering. He wasn't going straight to Kentucky with wings on his heels. He didn't need people. He was fine.

_Stop this thinking, Tim. You aren't like everyone else. You aren't meant to stay in one spot. You have a wandering spirit! You don't need roots. You aren't a tree. _

He was good at telling stories - spinning tales that everyone loved to hear. He could charm anyone with a story - he had a knack for it - had had it since he was a small lad. But it was getting harder to believe his own stories. It was getting harder to believe his own lies.

He remembered the first time he had met Daniel. He had been intimidated by the tall man who always kept one eye on Rebecca. He had heard the stories about the Great Man - taller than everyone - larger than life. He had been surprised to find that Daniel Boone was a reasonable, easy going, kind man.

"_You aren't as I expected." He had confessed to Daniel._

"_No?" Daniel had responded with a grin._

"_No." _

"_You were expecting me to reach into those woods over there and hand you a panther and a bear - with my bare hands?" Daniel laughed. "Or maybe you expected a bolt of lightening?"_

"_Well, people talk." Timothy admitted._

"_They do." Daniel agreed. "Becky's always teasing me - quoting from that book they wrote about me. I'm supposed to be able to lift a mountain and defeat an entire army all alone."_

"_With a slingshot and a small stone." Timothy added with a laugh._

"_That's right!" Daniel's smile grew big. "I can fell a giant with one a pebble." He shook his head. "People tell stories about me all the time. But it isn't who I am. Sometimes I get mixed up and think they know Daniel Boone, better than I do, but half them things ain't true."_

"_You are just a man then?" Timothy asked with raised eyebrows._

"_I am." Daniel admitted and after a pause added thoughtfully, "But I aim to be the kind of man that folks would tell those stories about - the kind of man you could believe would do all those good things." He nodded his head at Rebecca who stood in the distance. "I aim to be the kind of man so that I am all those things to her and more beside."_

And what of his story. After he was gone and laid to rest what stories would be told of Timothy Patrick Bryan? _Oh, he could spin a good yarn! The tales he could tell! The things he promised!_ Would they remember that he rarely kept those promises? Would they know that his stories were never true? Would they know he had once had a beautiful wife, and three sweet daughters who looked up at him with bright, trusting eyes - eyes that continued to trust even after he left them again and again?

He lived alone.

He died alone.

That is what they would say of him. They'd go through his pockets looking for the gold he had told stories about; lied about. They would expect to hear of the property that he would leave behind - he was always bragging about it. But they would come up empty handed. There was never any gold, or property. All of his promises were empty. Even his promise to Maggie. What had Daniel said? _I swore a vow to love her and protect her all my days_. Hadn't he made that same promise to Maggie? But he hadn't protected her - not from poverty, not from sickness, now from sorrow.

_It is your choice, now_.

Was it? Could he choose something different? Was he a man who could stay in one place and face their anger? Could he bear the burden of the hurt he'd caused her?

_It is your choice, now._

He should have stayed behind in the Old World where things were safe and there weren't any choices that needed to be made. She'd become so _American_; believing that he could choose who he was. Could people really do that? Could he? He looked up at the sky which was awash with bright stars. He felt small and the vastness of it frightened him. A strange sensation washed over him - completely foreign from any he'd ever experienced. The world seemed too big and he felt lost. He longed suddenly and wholeheartedly to be safe within a small piece of this earth; a place to protect him from the wildness of the world.

Timothy Patrick Bryan longed for home.

***DB***

"Where's Grandpa?" Israel asked his parents who stood side-by-side his blue eyes wide and hopeful.

"I don't know." His mother said pulling him close and hugging him tightly to herself. "Grandpa is like a leaf that blows wherever the wind takes him, Israel. He loves you, but he isn't good at staying in one spot."

"I know, but I thought maybe this time . . ." He looked down dejectedly, and his father bent low lifting his young son into his arms.

"Who knows when we will see Grandpa next." He told him. "Now, don't you have a kiss for your Ma? We just stepped in the door and you are pestering with questions." Israel leaned over, kissing his mother's cheek.

"I'm sorry, Ma. I'm glad you are home. I missed you."

She smiled up at him. "I missed you too, Israel. I was thinking that if you and Mima go find me some berries, we could make a pie to celebrate that we are all home together."

"Sure, Ma!" He jumped from his father's arms and ran out the cabin door where his sister was sitting on the porch sewing.

Rebecca walked to the pantry and considered her supplies, but then looking down, lifted a hand to her face. "I guess, I'd better get out of these britches and put on a dress! What would the Reverend's wife say if she saw me like this!"

"You are beautiful, darlin'." He said moving closer and putting his arms around her. "Don't matter what you are wearing - or if you are wearing anything at all." He winked at her as she blushed bright crimson.

"Daniel! The things you say!" She admonished him, trying to slip from his arms.

"I'm your husband. It is allowed." He kissed her cheek.

"I need to go get changed." She said trying to break away from him. "Let me go, sweetheart." She said softly.

"Uh, uh." He said holding her tightly. "Not until you tell me what you are thinking about things."

"What do you want me to say?" She asked him.

"Now, you are just trying to be difficult." He said to her.

"I am not." She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder, relaxing her tense muscles. "I told you. It doesn't matter any more. He is my father, but I can't control him. I can't make his choices. He makes them."

"He makes the wrong ones, every time." Daniel said sighing heavily. "I could go back and bring him here, if you wanted me to."

She laughed. "Tie him up and force him to love me?" She shook her head. "No, Dan. No. I'm fine. Quit fussin'. It's been a hard month; but I am alright - as long as you've got your arms around me."

"I just want to help." He said frustrated. "I wasn't here when you needed me and . . ." He paused. "I want to help." He repeated unable to find the right words to express how he felt.

"You are here now. You were with me when I faced him, and you held my hand when he made his choice. You do help. You are my help." He kissed her forehead, brushing her hair with the back of his hand. "And as to Patrick, he was ours, Dan. And we loved him. I can't know how it feels for you to never have the chance to say goodbye to him like I did. And you can't know what it was like for me to hold him as he breathed his last." She drew in a deep breath, wiping away the tears that spilled out. "But it doesn't mean you abandoned me. It doesn't mean you failed me - I don't know why you told my father that! You've never failed me; not once."

"The things you say, Rebecca. You know that isn't true. Patrick isn't the first time I failed you - you know that." His voice was heavy with emotion. "You are telling lies now."

"I am not." She said angrily, stepping back. "I am not a liar, Daniel Boone! You take that back!"

"Darlin', easy now." He reached out and put his hands on her shoulders. "You know what I meant. I _did_ fail you. I failed you and I failed, Jim. You know that."

She looked up into his green eyes which were bright with emotion, and studied him for a long minute. "Dan'l let it go." She said softly. "I'm not hanging on to it. We made our peace with that so long ago."

"But it is the same thing all over again and you . . ." He swallowed hard. "Why? Why do you forgive me? How can you overlook so much? I don't understand it. I don't understand you."

"How could you choose me?" She asked him. "All the beautiful, respectable, cooperative women who would jump to do whatever you say - but you choose me; stubborn, strong-willed, sharp temper - a bound Irish girl with no money and no family. Why?"

"Your temper isn't near as sharp as you claim." He said to her. "And those meek, cooperative girls are boring - they'd never put on a pair of breeches and come huntin' with me. They'd never have spent all day long struggling to build this cabin, with a smile on their faces. Beautiful, respectable women? Darlin' you are the _only_ beautiful woman in this wide world. The only one - far as I'm concerned."

Her head was down, her face low, and reaching out with gentle fingers, he lifted her chin, and leaned in for a kiss. Tears glistened on the smooth, pale skin on her cheeks, reminding him of a bright Kentucky sky filled with stars. He stepped back from her.

"I am glad he didn't come home, Rebecca. He doesn't deserve you. He is a fool and even a last minute apology and confession aren't enough. You deserve more than that." He said harshly - filled with an anger that he had hurt her so.

"What about the thief on the cross?" She asked him softly.

"Well, I ain't Jesus." He offered and her eyes widened with shock.

"Daniel! What would the Reverend say?"

"He ain't here just now." He said with a grin. He reached out with his fingers, and held her chin, rubbing his thumb along her soft skin. He swallowed hard even as she still laughed lightly. "Ta mo chroi istigh ionat." He said to her softly. "I can't even find the words to say how much."

She stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him down for a kiss. "I love you, too, Daniel."

***DB***

They sat around the table - the four of them. Daniel's heart ached thinking of little Patrick cooing and making them all laugh. He glanced at the spot where she had kept his cradle - nearby as they ate. Tom had already carried it out and put it back in the barn before he'd come home - it was too painful for her to see it empty. Rebecca saw his look and reached across the table squeezing his hand. Sitting back in her chair she said, "I am so happy to have us all together again." She smiled at Mima who leaned her head on her shoulder.

"I missed you, Ma." She said quietly. "I am sorry about Grandpa."

"Me, too." Rebecca said.

"How come he keeps leaving?" Israel asked. "Pa would never do that to us. Didn't it make you mad when you were a girl?"

"It did, Israel. It still does sometimes. But Grandpa isn't like your Pa." She said softly, reaching out and running a hand through his blond hair.

"I'm glad." Israel said.

"I am, too." She agreed, looking up to smile at her husband. "Now, sit up and eat those greens, Israel. It is the only thing keeping you from that berry pie we made. Hurry it up."

"I'd listen to her." A voice said as the cabin door swung open. "Your Ma is no one to be trifled with."

All four of them froze with shock as into the cabin stepped Timothy Patrick Bryan.


	17. Chapter 17

Timothy laughed nervously trying to ease the tension of the Boone cabin. He took a tentative step further into the room, closing the door behind himself. He glanced around the shocked faces of the family and felt again the panic he had been fighting since he'd left the safety of Dark Moon's camp.

"Did someone say something about pie?" He asked with his best and most charming grin.

"No." Daniel said rising and standing in front of Tim. He glared down at his father-in-law.

"No pie?" Tim craned his neck to meet Daniel's eye.

"No. You aren't going to sweep all of it under the rug. If you've come home," He glanced at Rebecca whose face was pale. "If you've come home to us then face it."

"I . . ." Tim hesitated. "I thought it could keep."

"No." Daniel repeated.

"But the children . . . I don't think they should have to listen to . . .it wouldn't be right." He shifted trying to step around the tall man so that he could see Rebecca, but Daniel shifted too so that she was hidden; protected.

"This cabin is small, Tim. These children have heard her cry. These children have spilled their own tears over you." Daniel's voice was firm, but their was a gentleness in it too. "Don't put it off. Now is the time."

"Now?" Tim glanced around nervously, rubbing his neck with his hand. "I . . don't . . .I need time to . . ."

"How much time do you need?" Daniel asked crossing his arms. "She was ten when you left her." He glanced at Rebecca. "But she's not ten any more."

"Dan." Rebecca said breaking free of her shock at last. "You are scaring him." She rose and stood beside her husband, a hand on his arm. "He forgets how tall he is." She said to her father. "Go on, Da. Sit down. There's coffee and pie." She turned to go to the pantry to get the pie but she stopped at the sound of her father's voice.

"No, Becky. He's right. This isn't time to sit and visit. It is time to set things right." He sighed and moved to sit by the fire.

Rebecca stood where she was, but Daniel held a hand out to her and holding tightly to his fingers she allowed herself to be led to the settee where she settled beside her husband - across from her father. Israel moved and sat on the floor in front of the fire - between his parents and Grandfather, while Mima choose to sit at the end of the table in her father's chair, turning it so she too faced the fire.

"Why did you go away?" Mima's voice was soft and they all turned to her surprised. "I can't understand it. I can see you care about Ma. You wouldn't have come all the way to Kentucky if you didn't. It is a hard journey. But you left her - when she was just a girl. I don't understand why. Pa wouldn't leave me."

Timothy shifted nervously in his seat. He had hoped to face Rebecca alone - having his grandchildren witness his shame was difficult. And to have Mima be the one to ask him - her blue eyes wide; so innocent and so trusting.

"Your Pa leaves." He pointed out, trying to keep his voice from sounding weak.

"No. Pa hunts. Then he comes home with food and pelts so Ma can buy flour and sugar and coffee. He helps some of the other settlers or tribes so that we can sleep safe - so there isn't war. But he always comes home." Mima's voice was gentle. "It isn't the same."

"Da, don't try and . . ." Rebecca began but finding herself unable to keep her temper at bay, she hesitated.

"'Becca, don't." Daniel said to her. "Go on and speak. You've kept quiet too long."

"I'll loose my temper." She said to him. "The children shouldn't . . ."

"I _know_ you've got a temper, Ma." Israel said looking up at her. "And Pa says that sometimes anger is just."

Rebecca sighed and with a reassuring nod from her husband, she drew in a breath and continued. "Don't compare yourself to him, Da. It isn't right. You don't know him, for one thing - and he's nothing like you either. I know you think he's the same, but he isn't. He didn't choose to wander forever. He chose to build a home; a family. He is here - even if he has to journey far away. They are sure of him." She pointed at the children.

"I'm sorry." He said. "You are right of course. I don't know him. I only know the stories. But you are only telling half-truths. He did leave. He was gone nearly six months - and you were left alone with a wee babe, and a buried son."

"Don't!" She said rising in fury. "You will not speak of those days! You weren't here! You don't know!"

"Are you saying it isn't true? You accuse me of staying away when sweet Siobhan died. But he's no different from me. You buried a son, and he left you alone."

"I thought you didn't tell Grandpa about Patrick." Israel said confused. "Mima, you said Grandpa didn't know."

"He's not talking about Patrick, Israel." Jemima said softly. "He is talking about James."

"Did you Pa? Did you leave like Grandpa said?" Israel turned to his father.

"I . . ." Daniel began but Rebecca lifted a hand stopping him.

"Israel, your Pa and me can talk to you about this later, but this isn't Grandpa's business. He wasn't here. He's just repeating rumors." She reached out and brushed his hair away from his face. "And whatever happened is in the past, Israel. I love Pa and he loves me. You know that?"

"Yes, ma'am." She smiled at him.

"Good." Turning from Israel, she turned back to her father, all softness falling away. "Why did you come here? To make excuses? To hurt me on purpose? You are at the very end, Da! Why is it so difficult for you to admit your errors? Why?"

"I just . . . I can see in your eyes, Becky. You accuse me. You think I'm some terrible man. I'm not. He's made some of the same choices - caused you the same hurts, and he's a saint in your eyes!" His words were sharp and bitter.

"What happened with our Jim; what happened in the past is between Dan and me. It isn't your business. You weren't here then. Did you stand beside me when they buried him? It is just a story your were told - a story you could use to make yourself feel better." Her voice was filled with sorrow and anger. "I'm too old for stories, Da, and so are you. This is my house now, and I won't have you filling it with lies. The truth lives here."

"The truth?" He asked looking up at her.

"Yes." She whispered her eyes filled with sudden tears. "Please, for just this once."

"What do you think is the truth, Rebecca?" His brows furrowed in confusion.

"That we couldn't make you happy. That I was too headstrong and too willful. That we made you want to leave." Her voice was so soft. He rose out of his chair shocked by it. He had expected an angry rage, but this . . .the truth she feared . . . he was stunned.

"Becky!" He knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. "No! Is that what you thought? How could you . . ." She looked small - like the girl he remembered - following him wherever he went - begging him to stay.

He looked over at Daniel, who sat beside Rebecca silent, his face unreadable. Seeing that Tim was studying him, his eyes grew dark and filled with a fierce rage. He turned away afraid that Daniel's anger would stop him.

"No, ah grah. No. That is not the truth at all. Your Ma was the sweetest girl, I ever knew. And so beautiful - you remember. She was mo chroi. But I . . ." He sighed and rising moved to the fire. "You asked why I left, Mima?" She nodded her head. "I'll tell you." He looked down ashamed. "I left because I was weak. I left because I was selfish. I left because I didn't want to shoulder my responsibilities." He turned to Israel. "You want to do your chores, Israel?"

"No." Israel said. "Not usually."

"Why do you do them then?"

"Because Ma needs 'em done, and Pa would tan me if I didn't. Besides, I have to do them. Pa told me too."

"I don't like chores either, Israel, so I never did them. Not when I was a boy, and not when I was a man."

"Pa?" Israel asked. "I don't understand. You said a man meets his responsibilities. You said that is part of what makes him a man."

"I did, Israel." Daniel's voice was quiet, his eyes on Israel.

"And he's right, Israel. A man does those things." Timothy agreed.

"But you just said you didn't. You are a grown up. You are old."

"Israel!" Mima admonished her brother.

"No, he's right Jemima, I am old, but I haven't been a man, Israel - not a real one; not like your Pa." He waited thoughtfully. "That's why I left because inside, I was a child still - and a spoiled one. I was old enough to be a man but I wasn't one - not like your Ma deserved; not like your Ma needed."

The cabin grew silent and Timothy studied his feet, unwilling to meet the eyes of his daughter or her husband. The only sound was the soft crackle of the fire.

"Ma?" Jemima said at last. "Ma?"

Rebecca also had her head down, and she twisted the corner of her apron over and over in her fingers.

"Becky, I am sorry." Timothy said at long, long, last. "I am sorry that I left you and your Mother, and your sweet sisters all alone. I am sorry that I stayed away when Siobhan died. You are right. I should have come home. I am sorry for all the stories I told and all the promises I didn't keep. And I am so sorry that I made you think you weren't good enough for me." He crossed the floor and knelt before her again. "I am sorry I let you and Susannah pay my debts - that you were sold for my sins. Oh, a leanbh na páirte, I failed you so completely. Even my coming here like I did to find you - that was for selfish reasons - to prove that I wasn't so bad - that everything turned out just fine for you. You were such a sweet and good daughter, but I put my needs and happiness above everything else. And I am sorry for it Rebecca. I am so sorry for it."

He said nothing, but reached for her hands which had stopped twisting her apron as he spoke. He held her hands tightly in his. "I will be sorry all my days that I hurt you so."

"'Becca," Daniel said softly moving closer, his arm locked tight around her shoulders. "You want me to ask him to leave?" He whispered the question in her ear, his lips brushing her skin as he did. "What do you want, ah grah?"

She turned to face Daniel then, her face covered in tears. "I want to be a child again and have my father coming home to me - just as he promised." Her words were broken and filled with tears.

"'Becca." Daniel breathed out her name, like a prayer, unsure of what to do or say.

"But . . ." She drew in a breath, and resting her forehead against her husband's for a brief moment, slowly turned to face her father. "But I am not a child. And you did come home to me - at last. I've waited such a long time, Da. Will you stay? Will you?"

He looked up into her face, surprised and lost in the vast ocean of unexpected forgiveness. "If you will have me, I would like to come home. Can I please come home? I've been lost and wandering far too long. Please, Becky?"

She slid from the settee so that she faced him - and shaking with tears she opened her arms wide to embrace him. "Yes, Da. I've been waiting for you."

Israel climbed into his father's lap, as his mother wept in her father's arms. Jemima sat down next to Daniel her face buried in his shoulder. "Is Ma alright?" Israel asked and was surprised to see tears on his father's face. "You are crying? Pa?"

"A man cries when it is right to do so, Israel." He told his son. "Now, hush. This time is for your sweet mama - don't spoil it with fussing."

He kissed Israel's forehead and pulled Mima close to his chest glad that he was here now with his children and his wife. He reached out and put a hand on Becky's shoulder hoping that she could feel all his love and that it would settle deep in her heart which had been restored to wholeness at long last.


	18. Chapter 18

"_And I will learn, yes I will learn, to love these skies I'm under . . ." Mumford and Sons_

***DB***

Timothy Patrick Bryan stepped out of the small cabin into the starlight. He settled himself on the front step and lit his pipe. Looking out beyond the yard he could see the line of trees in the far distance that led into the untamed lands beyond the safety of the settlement and beyond that the dark mountains where anything was possible. He sighed remembering the excitement of setting off into uncharted territory. He turned at the sound of the creak of the door opening and heard the shuffling of feet across the porch.

"Smart man." His son-in-law said, sitting beside him. "Becky'd have your hide if you tried to smoke inside." He grinned at his father-in-law.

"You listen to me son, and heed my words, never give an Irish lass reason to be cross with you!" He winked.

Daniel chuckled nodding his head in agreement. "Where were you seventeen years ago - I could have used that advice on the day we married. It would've been a mite helpful."

"No one warned me. It's a man's rite of passage." Timothy said good-naturedly.

"Still a warning would've been welcome." Daniel said, and then turned to gaze out into the darkness beyond the small halo of light shining out from the cabin. "It's a nice evening."

"It is." Timothy said. "It is so lovely here. I can see why you chose to settle here. It is beautiful country - nearly as green as home."

"You missing Ireland?" Daniel asked leaning back.

"I've been gone so long. I doubt there's any that would welcome me back." He paused thoughtfully. "Well, there's some that would, but just to see if I had returned to repay them." He shook his head sorrowfully. "It is a terrible thing to come to the end and realize all your errors."

"Every man makes errors. It is what you choose to do about them that truly matters." Daniel said. "Leastways, that's what my Pa always told me."

"Sounds like your Pa was a wise man. I bet he was no wanderer."

"No. He was a farmer. He worked hard taming the land - night and day." Daniel turned and glanced at Tim. "You can ask Rebecca, I'm no farmer. I wish I had a love for it like he did. I work at it - that field over there, but it is like trying to cut wood with a dull knife!" He shook his head. "I imagine he'd be disappointed if he could see it now."

"I imagine he's got reason enough for pride - a field of corn wouldn't bother him much." Timothy said. He looked out at the hills in the far distance. "You been that way?"

"A time or two." Daniel said. "You gettin' an itch to roam?"

"Mostly I feel tired." Timothy confessed. "I couldn't imagine staying in one spot so long. I didn't know how it felt." Just then Israel came outside and immediately crawled onto his grandfather's lap. Timothy laughed looking down at his grandson.

"And how does it feel?" Daniel asked with a smile.

"It feels like home." Timothy said wrapping an arm around Israel.

"Grandpa, tell about the time you met the King of England." Israel said. "Pa ain't never heard that story. You just wait, Pa! Grandpa gave that king what for!" He turned to his Grandfather considering him thoughtfully. "Only . . . I think that must just be a story. It isn't really true, is it?"

"Well, Israel you are a clever boy. It is a story, but sometimes if you tell a story well enough, it seems true. And I must confess, I would've loved to give that king what for, but I only imagined it." Timothy confessed. "Now, you sit back and get comfy because I feel like giving this story time enough to grow some legs and really walk around."

***DB***

Daniel sat on the end of the bed with a sigh. "Lord! I got tired all of the sudden!" He turned to his wife, who was pulling back the blankets and climbing into bed.

"You sat up late enough listening to stories." She said with a smile. "Israel's never gonna crawl out of bed in time to milk that cow." She began to unbraid her long red hair.

"I'll do it for him. It's my fault for not sending him in earlier. I got to confess to you Rebecca, your Pa can spin a mighty good yarn."

"He can at that." She agreed.

Daniel moved to climb into bed beside her. "I was thinking that maybe we ought to fix up a shed for him over across from the barn. He might appreciate some peace and quiet from time to time. Israel hangs on him like lizard to a tree."

"I don't know, Dan. I don't want to make him feel like he is trapped here." He could hear the old anxiousness in her voice. He pulled her toward him, wrapping his arms around her.

"You don't have to worry, Becky. He made me a promise that he would stay, and if he ever felt like he just had to leave, that he would tell us first - and give us a chance to say goodbye."

"He's made me lots of promises."

"But you never swore to hunt him down and drag him back at gunpoint." He said with a laugh.

"Daniel." Rebecca said shocked.

"You think I'd let him come back here without any conditions?" He shook his head. "No. It's my job to protect you, and I don't take any jobs lightly - especially one as important as that. 'Sides, I don't get the feeling he wants to be going anywhere. He seems content."

"He seems tired and weak." She sighed. "I think maybe what he told us is true."

"That might be, ah grah. And how do you feel about that? It seems to me that you've faced enough loss."

"The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away." She said softly.

"He does, but I am sorry for it, Becca. I'm sorry for the pain it brings."

"It brings joy, too, Daniel." She settled resting her head against his broad shoulder. "Blessed be the name of the Lord."

"Regardless, I will be here." He said holding her tighter.

"This is the one thing that is solid like the earth beneath my feet." She said leaning up to meet his eyes. "And it makes up for all the rest."

***DB***

Just six weeks later, Rebecca Boone found herself clutching tightly to her husband's hand as he leaned down and set a stone down in the soft Kentucky grass. The words were carefully carved in the large stone. She sighed softly, leaning against his arm, and chewing at the corner of her lip to keep fresh tears from falling from her bright blue eyes.

"You want to say something, Becca?" Daniel asked gently, but Rebecca shook her head unable to speak.

"Is it alright if I say something?" She nodded her head, and he kissed her forehead. Daniel cleared his throat, and still holding her hand he began to speak.

"We put you here on this hill, Tim. You can see far, far into the distance - I know how much you liked to think about what was over the next hill and the next one even after that. I can imagine you sitting here and imaging what was just beyond those range of mountains. Remember how much you used to pester me with questions - 'What's over that hill? What kind of people live there?' You enjoyed my stories almost as much as we enjoyed yours." He sighed and glanced at Rebecca who met his eyes. "Rebecca and I are mighty grateful that you came to us for these last days. And every single person in the settlement came to see you buried. You asked me once, long, long ago, what was so good about putting down roots - this is it; to have a whole community of folks who love and care about you." He squeezed Rebecca's hand. "To have a daughter who weeps that you are gone. Israel and 'Mima miss you, and Cincinnatus hasn't got anyone to beat him at checkers anymore. The little children have been telling each other your stories - since you can't tell them yourself any more. I gotta be honest, Tim, I weren't too happy to see you wander back into town - especially when 'Becca's heart was still so full of grief over Patrick, but now I ain't nothing but grateful you came home to us and sorrowful you couldn't spend more days with us. We'll miss you all our days, Tim."

He paused and gazed at the writing he'd carefully carved. "How do you say it, Becky? I don't know how?"

Her voice was soft, and full of tears, but it was also filled with a bittersweetness, too. "Tá m'athair in éineacht liom." Her voice always sounded musical when she spoke in Irish; like Sweet Talker playing a tune.

"What does it mean, Pa?" Jemima asked, one arm wrapped around her brother's shoulders. He glanced at Rebecca, waiting. She glanced at him and he nodded at her encouragingly.

"My father is with me." She said lifting Israel up into his arms.

"But what does that mean?" Israel asked, but Rebecca couldn't talk - her eyes bright with tears.

"It means that he will always be with us, Israel." Daniel said, pulling his family into his arms, his chin resting on the top of Rebecca's head. "It means he ended his days of wandering, and has come home at last."

He kissed his wife's forehead and reached out to wipe the tears that fell as she spoke. "He's home forever, now."

"Go deo." Jemima smiled.

"Go deo." Daniel agreed.

The sun began to sink in the blue sky, casting a faded golden light over the small family huddled together. It shone over the field of corn that Daniel stubbornly and doggedly worked. It shone over the small building that stood beside the barn with a lone, empty chair just outside the door. It spread light over the hills beyond the barn and cast shadows over the mountains that beckoned in the distance and over paths that had never been walked by an old Irish gypsy who ended his days dreaming of faraway places, but who was held tight by his loving family who had called him home from the cold and lonely road.

*** The End ****

Author's Note

_Thank you for all the encouragement and reviews. I love to receive feedback from my readers and am pleased that you enjoyed this story. The first time I heard "Hopeless Wanderer" I immediately thought of Daniel, but then as the story progressed - it came to represent Tim, too. I loved the parallels between the two men. They both were rich and complicated characters. And I really enjoy the complexities of Rebecca Boone. As my husband is quick to say, "May the good Lord help you, if you fall in love with a complicated woman." I love the picture of Dan and Becky, side-by-side, equally strong and equally brave. _

_I sure would love to be able to read a Daniel Boone story. I'm sure someone else out there has an idea in their head . . . _


End file.
